


Shall I Compare Thee To A Summer's Day?

by mandzilkos



Series: In This World So Cruel, I Think You're So Cool [3]
Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M, anyway it's mostly fluff I PROMISE, no drama this time i promise, or maybe a little
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-28
Updated: 2018-05-08
Packaged: 2018-12-21 00:22:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 138,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11932443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandzilkos/pseuds/mandzilkos
Summary: Four friends, three Champions League finalists, two couples, one summer.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Hello again!
> 
> \- Part 3 is going to be short, it's going to cover the summer of 2017 starting from the Champions League final.  
> \- As mentioned before this part happens entirely between chapter 35 and chapter 36 of part 2 (there's a little overlap with chapter 35).  
> \- Drama is minimised, I believe I've put us all through enough.  
> \- (There is still some drama)  
> \- I have not written enough to put a good summary, so for now this will do. I'll change it when I write a nice part.  
> \- This entire fic is themed by [Shakespeare's Sonnet 18](http://www.shakespeare-online.com/sonnets/18detail.html). The title of the fic and all the chapter titles will follow this sonnet.  
> \- As always, I will try my best to post regularly.  
> \- You might want to read [part 1](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7722889) and [part 2](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9552431) first.
> 
> Thank you for giving this a shot and feel free to tell me what you think! You can find me on tumblr [here](http://bernerdeschi.tumblr.com).

The draw for the Champions League semi-final took place on Isco’s birthday, right before Isco’s birthday party. Paulo and Franco watched it together on Isco’s huge TV before the chaos of the party and its guests descended on them.

“You do realise that if you don’t face him now, you’ll probably face him in the final, right?” Franco asked, bare feet propped up on the coffee table, hand full of popcorn he’d stolen from the snack stash, chewing on it like he didn’t really care about the result of the draw. Which, well. He had no reason to.

“I _know_ ,” Paulo said. He shifted further towards the edge of his seat, willing Juventus not to be the name drawn after Real Madrid, who'd just gotten drawn.

He shrunk back into his seat with a sigh of relief as Atletico Madrid was drawn. He turned to his side and saw Franco just staring at him, eyeing him up and down as he put another kernel in his mouth.

“What?” Paulo asked.

“You guys are gonna have to face each other,” Franco pointed out.

“Maybe he’ll lose in the semis.”

“That's mean,” Franco said. “Why does it have to be him? What if you lose?”

“Fuck you, don't curse me.”

“I'm not cursing you.”

“Are you taking Alvaro’s side? I can't believe you're taking Alvaro’s side. Just ‘cause he helped you with this lame ass party you’re on his side now.”

“One, this party is not lame ass. Two, I'm not on his side.”

Then the doorbell rang and it was the caterer with the scary amounts of food Franco had ordered, so thankfully Franco got distracted by that and didn't launch into some long, boring lecture. Paulo just sat on the couch and waited as Franco scurried around getting everything ready and in place.

Alvaro texted him at around half past one, saying, _I guess we get more time to prepare._

 _Yeah,_ Paulo replied, smiling. _We’ll talk about it after the party._

_Okay._

_Watcha doin’?_

_Hiding in the shower from Isco._

Paulo burst into laughter and Franco asked him what was going on.

“He's hiding from Isco. In the shower.”

“Look at that,” Franco said. “Alvaro Morata, at my beck and call.”

Paulo threw his middle finger in the air. He knew Franco was just being extra asshole-y because of the whole thing that had been happening with Isco. So he forgave Franco.

He continued texting Alvaro. Honestly, Paulo dreaded the day he had to face Alvaro in a match. He knew it was going to happen some day. Even Isco and Franco had already faced each other. Paulo was just worried about the whole hoo-ha regarding where their loyalties were at, especially since this was the biggest match of the season.

But for now, there were two weeks to the first leg of the semi-finals – and who knows, maybe Franco was right and one of Juventus or Real Madrid would get kicked out before Paulo or Alvaro even got the chance to think about it.

**\------**

Paulo and Alvaro left the party at the earliest possible moment, when Isco had left with his family to the hotel and Franco was cleaning up. They asked him if he needed help but he refused so they took all his things from Alvaro’s car, dumped them in the house, and left with their personal pasta stashes.

They got home and settled into Alvaro’s bed in record time after showering. Antonio had sent Alvaro some of their group photos so he argued with Paulo for a while over which one to post.

“Shouldn’t you be sleeping anyway? You have a morning flight,” Alvaro pointed out after their bickering had simmered down and they had posted the photos.

“Twelve noon isn’t morning,” Paulo said.

“It is if you have to reach the airport at ten.”

“ _It is if you have to reach the airport at ten,_ ” Paulo repeated in a mocking tone.

Alvaro slapped him on the forehead. He couldn’t say he wasn’t upset about Paulo having to leave so quickly, but. He had to say that after eight years of mostly being apart, they were used to it.

“So what are you going to do when I beat your ass?” Alvaro asked as Paulo settled on his tummy. He ran his fingers through Paulo’s freshly-dried hair.

“You’re not going to beat my ass,” Paulo said, his voice muffled as it sent vibrations up Alvaro’s torso.

“What are you going to do when we have to beat each other’s asses?” Alvaro rephrased.

“I’m kinda wishing we don’t have to.”

“But you want to get to the final, don’t you?”

“Yeah.”

“I want to, too.”

“You know what Franco told me? He said maybe one of us won’t even make it to the final. And then we won’t even have to worry.”

“Fuck Franco. It’s none of his business.”

“He meant it in a good way.”

“Whatever,” Alvaro grumbled.

“Hey,” Paulo said. “We did good today. With Isco and Franco.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro grinned. “Pau and Alvi save the day.”

Paulo giggled. “Alvi.”

“Yeah?”

“No matter what happens in the Champions League, we’ll always be friends, yeah? All four of us.”

“I don’t think Franco and I are considered friends.”

“You know what I’m talking about.”

“I’m not your _friend_. Is that it? You just wanna be my friend? Get out of my house.”

“Alvaro.”

Alvaro sighed. This was a bad habit of his, joking and glazing over topics he didn’t want to get into.

“You can’t just keep doing that,” Paulo continued.

“Yeah,” Alvaro said softly. “We’ll always be friends. You and Isco will always be friends. Friendship doesn’t get erased this easily.”

“And we’ll always be okay? The two of us?”

“Mmhmm. Always.”

And that, just something as simple as Alvaro’s reassuring words, was enough for Paulo, as per usual. He fell asleep with a smile on his face and Alvaro followed suit soon after.

**\------**

Real Madrid played the second leg of their semis a day after Juventus had made it through against Monaco. They lost the game but made it through on aggregate, and Isco scored Real’s only goal.

Franco watched the match live at the Vincente Calderón. After the match he weaved his way against the crowd to the advertisement board at pitchside to meet Isco, who busied himself chattering away to his teammates before noticing Franco trying to get his attention.

“I’m so proud of you,” was the first thing Franco said when Isco got within earshot. Isco’s hair was all sweaty and plastered all over his face so Franco tucked it behind Isco’s ears. Isco grinned up at him like a little puppy eager for pets. Franco gave him a couple on the head, just for good measure.

“You are?” Isco asked.

“Mmhmm. Proudest boyfriend in the world.”

Isco tiptoed and leaned over the advertisement board to kiss Franco on the lips. He wrapped his arms around Franco’s neck and gave Franco a few loud smooches.

“People are staring,” Franco whispered, embarrassed.

“ _People are staring,_ ” Isco mocked.

Franco gave his cheeks a couple of slaps. “See you outside,” he said.

“Bye,” Isco said cheerfully. He skipped back to his teammates after giving Franco a few sweaty kisses on his cheeks. How disgusting, honestly.

They met outside about an hour later; an hour of Franco patiently waiting in the car, watching all the other cars pull out of their lots one by one until Franco’s was the only one left. He took a walk by the river for a while, but then got bored so he came back. Isco came outside alone, still beaming widely.

“Where's Alvaro?” Franco asked.

“Private parking,” Isco said, slipping into the passenger seat. “Why?”

“Nothing, just wanted to tell him congrats.”

“Text him,” Isco said, and made Franco send a text into their group chat before he was willing to let Franco start driving.

The ride home was quiet and dark, only the rectangle of light from Isco’s phone providing illumination. The brief glances Franco flashed his way revealed Isco smiling into it.

It continued even when they got home, Isco showering quickly and then getting out, leaving Franco to take his time. He eventually got out and saw Isco sitting on the bed, ankles crossed, still looking at his phone and typing.

Franco checked his own phone and saw a slew of messages from the group conversation. He read through some of them. It started off with Alvaro thanking Franco for his well written wishes, and then he and Alvaro ganging up against Paulo as they argued about who was gonna beat whose ass. Franco scrolled down restlessly but the messages just kept popping up, the header just kept reading _Isco is typing…_ or _Paulo is typing…_ or _Alvaro is typing…_

Franco followed their bickering for a while. It was honestly quite entertaining. After a while he put his phone aside and lay down next to Isco, who was sitting up against the headboard and grinning at his phone, the rectangle lighting up his face.

“Go to sleep, baby,” he said distractedly.

“I can't with that light shining on me.”

“It's not shining on you,” Isco said.

He suddenly laughed at his phone when Paulo or Alvaro said something funny. The three of them were most likely going to bicker their way through the night.

As Franco lay there watching Isco’s expressions and trying to fall asleep, he couldn't help but feel a special kind of lonely.


	2. Thou Art More Lovely And More Temperate

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys, just a short note that this is the first time in the series that I'll be writing from all 4 POVs in the same story, so I apologise in advance if it's a little messy. I hope it'll smoothen out over the rest of the chapters. Thank you and enjoy!

Franco had flown to Cardiff for the Champions League final. He'd received ticket invitations from all three of Paulo, Isco, and Alvaro – the latter somewhat surprising Franco – but eventually accepted Isco’s and sat with Isco’s family in their box.

Isco could almost see them from the pitch. He at least knew their general direction. When the final whistle was blown Isco flew out of his seat on the bench to his teammates, joining in their team hugs and random screaming. Alvaro found him and gave him a gigantic hug that squeezed all the air out of Isco’s lungs.

Isco turned towards the direction of his family’s VIP box to see that the silhouettes in it had disappeared.

And reappeared at pitchside, where his family and Franco were all standing waiting for Isco.

Isco ran up to them and Franco was the one who got to him first, wrapping one arm around Isco while the other was occupied by Junior. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt while everyone else was wearing Real Madrid jerseys – understandable, but still incredibly amusing.

“Congrats,” he whispered into Isco’s ear, and it was the only thing Isco heard amidst all the noise. “I love you so much.”

“I love you,” Isco breathed. “Thank you. I love you so much.”

Franco kissed him, hard and wet, on his lips. That was all he managed to do before Antonio yanked him away so everyone else could get some hugs in. Isco watched him over his family’s shoulders; Franco was listening to Junior utter some nonsense, nodding and smiling, not seeming bothered about Junior clutching Franco’s head tightly with his grubby hands.

Isco waved at them and gestured them over. He grabbed on to Franco’s arm once he was within reach so everyone else had no choice but to sigh and give way.

“You did so great,” Franco said, trying to pass Junior to Isco.

Isco smiled. He reached up to kiss Franco again. “Thank you.”

“Go with papa,” Franco said to Junior when he finally managed to remove all of Junior’s clingy limbs from his body. “C’mon.”

“Come in with us,” Isco suggested, draping Junior over his shoulder.

“Nah, it’s okay.”

“Just jump over,” Isco said. “You have long legs. Just hop over.”

“That doesn’t have anything to do with anything.”

“Come on, Franny.”

Franco sighed in defeat. He jumped over the barrier and took Isco’s hand, letting Isco drag him into the pitch. Junior got all excited again, especially when Isco asked him to wave at the camera. Franco just walked by their side silently, clinging on to Isco’s hand for dear life. And Isco just. Isco wanted to share this with Franco. He just wanted Franco to know that he was a champion, too, in Isco’s eyes.

Isco turned to Franco and told Franco he loved him, but Franco didn’t hear, just gazed around him, at all the people milling around, in absolute awe. It made Isco smile. Franco was still a child at heart, no matter how strong a front he always put on. And Isco loved bringing that part of him out.

“You good?” Isco asked, and this time Franco heard him.

“Yeah,” Franco said. “I just – I haven’t...you know. Won anything. Haven’t celebrated like this.”

“So it’s your first time?”

“Mmhmm.”

Isco smiled. “We’re going to have many more firsts together, Franco.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm. Very many.”

Franco laughed. He gave Isco a kiss on the temple. “Okay,” he whispered.

They continued walking towards where all of Isco’s teammates were standing, and Isco was so happy and proud not just because he’d just won the biggest club trophy in Europe, but because he got to show Franco off during all of it.

\------

After a few minutes on the pitch Franco felt like. Like he didn’t belong there.

He stood next to Isco near his teammates, not exactly sure what to do. Marco came bounding up to them and he looked so _happy_ and he hugged Isco and hugged Junior and stopped in front of Franco with the biggest smile on his face like he was meeting his idol. Franco congratulated him on his goal and – well, Franco was pretty sure he was actually peeing his pants.

“Be cool, be cool,” Isco muttered, making Franco laugh.

Marco drifted away and Alvaro came by and just scooped Junior out of Isco’s arms. Franco expected Isco to follow, but instead Isco just stood there holding Franco’s hand and just looking really pleased with himself.

“Hey,” Franco said. “I’m really, really proud of you. I’m so happy for you and I’m so happy to see you this happy.”

“Yeah?” Isco smiled. he wrapped his arms around Franco’s neck and just hung off it like a monkey. “I love you so much.”

Franco bent over a little and kissed Isco hard on the lips, again, suddenly not caring that there were tens of thousands of people watching them in the stadium and millions more on television. Franco just. Just suddenly lost all his inhibitions. He let Isco work up the kiss ever so eagerly, tongue and teeth and everything, until their surroundings slowly settled in again and Franco felt himself turn beet red.

“Okay, okay,” he whispered, pulling away from the kiss and pressing his forehead on Isco’s. “That’s cool.”

Isco laughed. “Franco,” he whispered back.

“Hmm?”

“I love you so fucking much.”

It was Franco’s turn to laugh. “I love you, too,” he said, running his thumb along Isco’s cheek where his beard used to be. Unfortunately, it wasn’t really there anymore. “My champion.”

Isco grinned proudly. “You’re kinda a champion, too.”

“I’m not.”

“I’m sharing it with you. I don’t care.”

Franco gave Isco’s hair a ruffle. He draped his arm over Isco’s shoulders and leaned on him as they stood there, watching everything happen. Isco held on tightly to the fingers of one of Franco’s hands, the one hanging over his shoulder, with both of his.

“You can go hang out with your friends,” Franco said.

“I don’t wanna,” Isco said. He put his arm around Franco’s waist and tucked his head into Franco’s shoulder. They watched Alvaro throw Junior in the air a few times, and then carry him over slowly to where Paulo was standing, staring into blank space. He put Junior on the ground and Junior immediately started bounding back to Isco and Franco in his bright purple kit, matching with Isco. “He looks like a grape,” Isco mused.

“That makes you a raisin,” Franco pointed out.

“I’m not a raisin,” Isco scoffed. “You’re the raisin.”

“You’re _wrinkly_.”

“I’m _not a raisin._ _You’re_ the raisin. You’re old and wrinkly.”

“Well, I’m not the grape’s dad.”

Isco sighed in defeat. He lightened up again when Junior ran straight to Franco instead of to him. “You kinda are,” he said.

Franco laughed. He hoisted Junior in his arms and followed Isco as he wandered around randomly. He saw Alvaro spend some time with a very devastated Paulo, just hugging him and softly whispering in his ear. He eventually had to leave Paulo, as Isco had to with Franco, as both teams moved to the podium. Franco stood with Isco’s family at pitchside, juggling Junior in his arms.

Paulo stopped to give Alvaro a hug as he walked through the guard of honor the Madrid players were forming. It was a pretty long hug at that, too, and Alvaro was standing right at the foot of the podium so they were just clogging up the entire thing and Franco couldn’t help but laugh.

Paulo still looked incredibly forlorn after getting his medal, flanked by his team and staring right ahead, watching the prize ceremony more out of respect and less because they wanted to.

Franco passed Junior to Antonio and wandered over to where Paulo was.

“Hey,” he said softly.

Paulo afforded him a smile.

“How you doin’?” Franco asked.

Paulo shrugged, and he looked like he was about to cry so Franco took a step forward and enveloped him in a tight hug. Paulo sunk into it gratefully. Franco felt Paulo’s loser’s medal press into his stomach.

“I should be proud of him, shouldn’t I?” he sobbed. “I should be happy.”

“Being sad about losing doesn’t mean you love him any less,” Franco whispered.

“Look at you,” Paulo gave a sad chuckle. “Love expert.”

Franco gave his hair a ruffle before pulling him out of the hug. “C’mon, watch your boyfriend get his medal.”

They stood side by side, Paulo’s arm hooked in Franco’s, watching the Real Madrid players collect their medals. It took much longer because they all took turns to give the trophy a kiss. Isco gave it an especially long and passionate one which made Franco laugh and Paulo say, “He’s got a new boyfriend.”

“Yeah, what’s he doing flirting with that thing in front of me?”

“Maybe he’s just attracted to his reflection in it.”

Franco burst into laughter, more of relief that Paulo was able to crack a joke than anything else. “You feeling okay?” he asked Paulo.

Paulo shrugged. “I guess...I guess I can be a little proud of him right now.”

“Just a little?”

“Don’t tell him that. To him, I’m the proudest in the world.”

“Okay,” Franco said skeptically.

“It’s not that I want to lie to him,” Paulo said defensively. “It’s just. You’ve known Alvaro almost as long as I have. He’s not gonna understand.”

“Yeah,” Franco said.

Paulo sighed, then it was quiet as Real Madrid prepared to receive the trophy. Then there was confetti and loud music and a lot of cheering, and Paulo sighed again.

“How did you deal with it?” he asked. “You know. Losing the Supercup to Isco.”

“That’s different. We weren’t together yet. I didn’t even like him.”

“You did, though,” Paulo pointed out. “A little. Don’t deny it. Way too much time has passed and way too many things have happened for you to have any reason to deny it anymore.”

Franco sighed. He felt like the night of the 2016 Supercup was seared permanently into his brain. The night that Isco had admitted his feelings and Franco’s world had turned upside down.

“I was a little sad, yeah,” Franco finally said. “But he was happy, and. I don’t know. A little part of me was happy for him.”

Paulo took a deep breath. “So I guess I just gotta find that little part.”

“He’ll understand. Alvaro will understand. He’s changed a lot since you two got together.”

A wry smile from Paulo. “Yeah, I guess,” he said. He gestured towards the front with his chin. “They’re done.”

Franco turned back to the front and saw Alvaro just fucking prancing his way over, oblivious to the fact that he was entering the territory of a bunch of really upset Juventus players. He greeted a few of them, those he’d missed earlier post-match. Then he made a beeline for Paulo and Franco took a step back to give him some space. He watched Alvaro wrap Paulo up in this really tight hug, so tight that Paulo was pulled onto his tiptoes, and he watched them have their own little whispered conversation. And he was _sure_ they were going to be okay. Because that was what they had always been. Even Franco knew that. They would always be okay.

“Hey, congrats,” Franco told Alvaro once he had the chance.

“Thanks,” Alvaro beamed.

“Um, I’m gonna,” Paulo said, gesturing to his teammates, who were walking away, with his thumbs. “I’m gonna go.”

“Yeah,” Franco and Alvaro said in unison. “Uh, text me, or, um, something,” Franco said, his voice petering out once he realised Alvaro was just staring at him.

And then everything didn’t matter anymore because the love of Franco’s life was bounding towards him, his son in his arms and the champions’ medal around his neck. They crashed into Franco’s wide open arms with loud giggles.

“Hi again,” Isco said merrily.

“Hey,” Franco smiled. He just felt like. Like his heart was so full it was going to explode. He was so _happy_ seeing Isco so happy and he just wanted to frame this moment up and relive it forever. “I’m so proud of you. So, so proud.”

Isco took the medal off and hung it over Franco’s neck instead. He smiled at Franco and Franco heard the words he didn’t say. _You’re a champion too._

Franco held the medal in his hands for a while. It was nice and shiny and Franco never thought that he’d ever get to touch it in his life. But it didn’t feel right holding it or wearing it because it wasn’t his, so Franco took it off and put it over Junior’s neck.

“Are you proud of papa?” he asked.

“Very proud,” Junior nodded.

Isco laughed. “Yeah?” he asked. “You’re proud of me?”

Junior nodded again. “Kiss,” he demanded Isco, jabbing at his own cheek. “Vazquez, kiss.”

God, Franco had never met another kid who was smarter or more adorable. Junior seemed to know that when they were all happy and smiling was the best time to ask for kisses. And so they gave him a few.

Then Franco followed them around again as they chased the cup and tried to take photos with it. Isco finally got it in his hands and ran over to his family with it, thrusting Junior to Franco as he did so. Then they all posed for photos with it in different combinations and Franco helped them take the photos.

“Come join us,” Isco said. “Pass the phone to someone.”

And his entire family agreed so Franco asked a random dude walking by to help them take a photo. He slotted in right beside Isco, one hand on the trophy.

And then, Jesus, because Isco was _Isco,_ he made Franco take like, a million other photos with him. With Junior and without Junior, with the trophy and without the trophy, standing in different places, doing different faces. By the end of it Franco must’ve looked pretty overwhelmed because Isco suddenly looked concerned and asked, “Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Franco said. He let go of the trophy and Isco lifted it to pass to someone else, finally. “Just, uh, yeah. I’m fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, it’s just, uh,” Franco stared at his hand for a while. “It’s weird to touch it. When it doesn’t belong to me.”

Isco stared at him for a while, his eyes narrowing like he wanted to scold Franco, but didn’t have the heart to.

“Let’s sit down,” Isco said, then just. Just planted his butt down on the ground where they were, in the middle of nowhere. Thankfully, everyone else started clearing the space out, seemingly following the trophy where it went.

Franco sat down cautiously next to him. “So how do you feel?” he asked.

“Happy,” Isco said, and that was the single word Franco only ever needed to hear.

“Good,” Franco smiled.

“I wouldn’t be here without you, Franco. I wouldn’t be anywhere.”

“You can’t say that. I didn’t do anything.”

“You did. You were the most caring and understanding and loving and supportive boyfriend in the world. You never gave up on me and you kept telling me I deserved the world and to go out there and get it. You kept telling me not to give up on myself. You are the reason I’m here.”

Franco tucked Isco’s hair behind his ear and wiped off the little specks of dirt and sweat on his face. He was so, so, so fucking proud of Isco. He thought he could never stop feeling that way and he thought he could never stop thinking about it.

“And you gave me a chance,” Isco added in a whisper. “You gave me chances over and over and over again. Franco Vazquez, my life would be nothing without you.”

“I love you,” Franco mouthed.

“I love you, too,” Isco smiled. He leaned forward and kissed Franco softly. “I love you so much.”

“Go hang out with your friends,” Franco said as Isco began to look around again.

“Nah,” was all he said.

“Just go. I’ll be fine.”

Isco turned and stared at him again. “Really?”

Franco nodded. “I’ll just hang around with your family. You’ve got my keycard, right? Just come straight to my room.”

“Okay,” Isco said, a bit reluctantly. He got up and dusted himself off, so Franco did the same. “See you later.”

“See you,” Franco kissed him on his sweaty head. “I love you. Congratulations.”

“Love you, too,” Isco said as he jogged away.

Franco found Isco’s family and just lingered around them as they chatted happily, with Antonio occasionally very kindly trying to include Franco in the conversation. Then they went out for some supper and returned to the hotel, Isco’s family to their suite and Franco to his own room.

He found a text from Paulo on his phone, asking if he was still up. Franco replied and about ten minutes after his shower found Paulo knocking at his door.

He still looked devastated. His eyes were bloodshot and rimmed with tears, and he gently shoved Franco aside and headed straight to the bed and flopped over on his front, saying, “I've already showered.”

Franco shut the door and joined him. He lay perpendicular to Paulo, head propped up on a few pillows. Paulo moved to rest his head on Franco’s stomach.

“Did Alvaro call you?” Franco asked.

Paulo shook his head. “Don’t think he will.”

“He will.”

“I don’t mind if he doesn’t.”

A short silence.

“I brought a mini Lego set,” Franco said. “Just in case.”

Paulo made a gesture with his hand like he wanted Franco to bring it out, so Franco got out from under him and dug in his bag for it. It was a tiny little helicopter. Paulo took it out of its box and poured all the pieces on the bed, slowly picking them up one by one and putting them together. Franco sat next to him and watched, thinking maybe Paulo would feel a better sense of accomplishment if he put it together on his own.

He took about half an hour to finish it all by himself, after which he just took it in his tiny hands and turned it around, examining it. Then he sighed and lay back down on Franco, who had returned to his original reclined position.

“I feel like I fucked up today,” Paulo said.

“You didn’t,” Franco said.

“I did. I choked. It was unbearable. I could _feel_ myself choking.”

“It’s not your fault. You can’t expect yourself to hold the whole team up.”

“I could’ve done better, Franco. I should have. You know how good I can be. Today I was nowhere near that.”

“That’s just gonna give you a reason to not fuck up the next time, yeah?” Franco whispered, placing his hand in Paulo’s hair, thinking maybe if he made Paulo fall asleep then Paulo would wake up feeling better. “You’re so young and you play for an amazing team. You’re going to have many more finals and you’re going to win them. You’re going to be strong, you’re just going to cry this out and you’ll forget about this because you can, and the next time you get this chance, you’re going to take it.”

“You think so?” Paulo asked, swallowing a sob. “And I won’t choke? I won’t fuck up?”

“You’ll be so great, Paulo Dybala.”

Paulo turned on his back and smiled, pushing his head into Franco’s grasp. He closed his eyes. “Sorry for ruining your mood.”

“Nah.”

“You can be proud of Isco in front of me, you know that?”

“I know.”

“You are, aren’t you?”

“Prouder than I have ever been.”

Paulo gave a soft laugh. “I’m proud of Alvi, too,” he whispered. “I just, Franco. You’re the only person I can talk to about this now.”

“Yeah, I get it,” Franco said. “And you can. Yeah? You can talk to me about it.”

Paulo nodded. “You should be glad you’re not part of this mess.”

“I am, though,” Franco said bitterly. “Aren’t I?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, I’ve no choice. My boyfriend’s in it. I’m in it no matter what I think.”

“Are you...okay? With being in it?”

Franco shrugged. “It’s just...you three, you were legitimately a part of this final. I wasn’t. I just sat at the side and watched it happen. And you three – including Alvaro, whether I like it or not – are my closest friends in this entire world. It’s just...I watched you three bicker and have so much fun and work equally hard for this common goal and I...I just felt a little left out.”

“You’re part of it too,” Paulo said.

“That’s what Isco tells me. But it’s different. It’s not the same to me.”

“I’m sorry we made you feel left out.”

“Nah,” Franco sighed. He’d be okay, he guessed. “Anyway, it’s not about me. Let’s not talk about me.”

Another silence as Paulo thought of what to say.

“My mom, my brothers,” he finally said softly. “They were all watching. They watched me flop. And I know that it was a huge match and I know that it’s natural to get nervous. But good players, they don’t do this. They don’t just completely go quiet in big matches. And I did. It’s not the first time. I fucked up the Supercoppa in December, too. I just. I’m not as good...as everyone makes me out to be.”

“You can’t base yourself just on these two matches,” Franco said. “What about all the other matches that you’ve played and done so well in? All the other cup matches, the other Champions League matches? Your games against Barcelona? Paulo, you’re so young and you’ve only been in Juve for two seasons. You can’t expect yourself to just get it immediately.”

“But I should.”

“You put too much pressure on yourself.”

Paulo sighed. “I wonder if my dad is proud of me.”

Franco smoothened Paulo’s hair back on his head. “I bet he is.”

Paulo smiled. He curled up on his side, facing Franco. His tears fell and stained the front of Franco’s shirt, at his tummy. “Thanks, Vazquez.”

“I’m proud of you, too.”

Paulo’s smile grew. He closed his eyes and Franco tried sweeping all his unruly hair into a neat pile but only succeeded in sending Paulo right to sleep. Paulo was one of Franco’s oldest footballing friends and he was one of Franco’s best friends in the entire world, and even though he made inexplicable decisions all the time – exhibit A being Alvaro – Franco still wished the best for him with all his heart.

\------

Isco and Alvaro got back to the hotel past midnight.

The rest of their team were clustered on one floor, but Isco got off the elevator a few floors earlier on Franco’s floor. Alvaro, being too drunk on champagne to notice that he hadn’t got to his floor, followed Isco out of the elevator and didn’t realise it until they were halfway down the corridor.

“Where the fuck are we?” he asked, stumbling over his own feet.

“Shut up,” Isco muttered, trying to make the numbers on the doors less wobbly. Alvaro was going to wake everyone on the fucking floor. “Don’t speak so loudly, it’s like 3am or something.”

“It’s not,” Alvaro said, then went quiet obediently. A few moments later he whispered, “Where are we?”

“I’m finding Franco’s room,” Isco said, raising the keycard in the air. “He gave me his card.”

“Ooh, cool,” Alvaro said, grabbing it and examining it in his hands even though it looked exactly the same as his own keycard. “What’s his room?”

“502.”

“We passed it, dumbass,” Alvaro said, turning on his heel and walking back where they came from.

“You’re not so useless,” Isco murmured, following him. Surely enough, room 502 was at the start of the corridor.

Isco slid the card in the card slot. It beeped and turned green. He pushed the door open and Alvaro followed him inside.

They saw Franco and Paulo in bed, bundled in a pile, Franco propped up on a bunch of pillows half-asleep and Paulo fully asleep curled up on his stomach. Paulo was gently clutching a little Lego helicopter. Franco’s hand was wedged in Paulo’s hair and his fingers gently moving. He startled a little when Isco and Alvaro appeared, then gave Isco a big sleepy smile and opened his arms wide. He didn't seem to realise Alvaro was present.

Isco sat in the little space left in the bed and leaned into Franco’s arms, waking Paulo up in the process.

“Gross,” Paulo said, rubbing his eyes. He extended a hand and Isco took it. “Congrats.”

“Thanks,” Isco said, watching as Paulo got up.

Paulo only greeted Alvaro with the tiniest smile. He left the Lego helicopter on the bed and stood up. He gently made his way past Alvaro and then went out the door.

Alvaro turned to Isco, then to Franco, surprised. Isco gave him a shrug, but Alvaro seemed to focus the bulk of his attention on Franco. He narrowed his eyes at Franco for a while, then turned around and scurried after Paulo. The door clicked shut behind them.

Isco turned back to Franco, who seemed to be oblivious to whatever that had happened. He was just gazing lovingly at Isco, his hand now in Isco’s hair, slowly ruffling it at the nape of Isco’s neck.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hello,” Isco grinned.

“C’mere. Gimme a kiss.”

“I haven't showered,” Isco whispered, climbing over Franco and straddling him, anyway.

“Well, here you are on my bed anyway, no?”

Isco smiled. He bent down and pressed his lips hard on Franco’s, hands grasping the shoulders of Franco’s t-shirt. “Are you mad?”

“Mad as _fuck_ ,” Franco muttered, punctuated with a nibble at Isco’s bottom lip.

“If I take off all my clothes, will you be less mad?”

“Mmhmm.”

“You have to take off your clothes, too.”

“Deal.”

So Isco got off him and they each took off their own clothes, after which they returned to their original positions. Isco grabbed Franco by the jaw and tilted his face upwards so he could french Franco a little. Which Isco knew was undoubtedly Franco’s favourite thing to do.

“Oh,” Franco said in disgust as Isco shoved his tongue in his mouth. “How much champagne did you drink?”

“Very many.”

Franco laughed, and then despite the taste of Isco’s mouth, keened upwards for more. His hands travelled as smoothly as they could manage over Isco’s sticky skin, making Isco get up on his knees pining for more.

“Are you sure?” Franco breathed between Isco’s lips. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m not.”

“You’re not sure or you’re not drunk?”

Isco sighed. He sat back down on Franco’s thighs and pouted. “I want you, Franco Vazquez.”

Franco smiled. He reached for the back of Isco’s head and grabbed a handful of his hair, pulling him down for a kiss. “Then you get me, my champion,” he whispered. “You get anything you want.”

“I just want an orgasm,” Isco whined.

Franco laughed, adoringly and adorably and like he just _got it._ He thrust his hips upwards against Isco’s. “Come on, then.”

Isco leaned forward and pressed his abdomen against Franco’s, rubbing their dicks together between them. A couple of minutes of grinding later he realised how fucking tired his thighs were, so he just collapsed on top of Franco with another whine.

Franco was smiling as he grabbed Isco by the waist and turned him over so he was at the bottom. He settled between Isco’s legs in a crouch and spat on Isco’s dick before curling his fingers around it and jerking Isco off. Isco buckled off the bed with a loud moan and Franco let go of his dick and sat up.

“Be quiet or I won’t blow you,” he hissed.

Isco shut his mouth immediately. Franco glared at him for a little while before lowering his head again, his lips gentle and tight around Isco’s dick all the way down until Isco was fully inside Franco’s mouth. Isco curled his toes and clenched his fists in an effort to be quiet, but couldn’t help but give this little breathless whimper when Franco slid his mouth back up and repeated the action again. And again. And again, this time sucking harder. And harder.

And God, Isco was like, eighty percent drunk and he’d completely lost control of all his senses, so he was a little embarrassed to say that it only took like, seven times of Franco doing that for Isco to just completely unravel. Franco appeared a little surprised, too, when Isco just suddenly exploded all over Franco’s cheeks and hands. He gasped, and then dipped his head so he could collect the rest of Isco’s come on his cheeks.

He decorated a line of come along Isco’s abdomen as he kissed his way up it until his lips were pressed on Isco’s upturned ones. Isco used his fingers to smudge the come off Franco’s beard and into his mouth.

“Dirty mouth,” he whispered.

Franco gave a tired laugh. “I love you,” he murmured.

“Love you too,” Isco mumbled. He was suddenly just. Just really sleepy. He wrapped his arms around Franco’s neck and pulled Franco down on him, because Franco was the best blanket to sleep under.

“Hey, hey,” Franco said, slapping Isco hard on both shoulders.

“What?”

Franco took Isco’s hand and wrapped it around his dick. It was still hard.

“ _Oh_ ,” Isco said, laughing. “Okay.”

Then he proceeded to jerk Franco off so sloppily that Franco had to wrap his hand around Isco’s and guide it and honestly he would've been better off doing it himself. Isco just kept laughing and he felt so _embarrassed_ but at the same time he _didn't care_ , and Franco wasn't even angry, he just smiled and gazed at Isco and came all over Isco’s hand and made Isco lick it all off.

“This isn’t all the reward I’m gonna get, is it?” Isco asked sleepily as Franco collapsed next to him.

“Definitely not,” Franco said, wrapping Isco up in a tight hug.

Isco sighed peacefully. “I want more super hot, super sexy celebratory sex.”

“You think this is super hot and super sexy?” Franco asked. “Low standards, Alarcon.”

“ _Low standards, Alarcon,_ ” Isco mocked.

“It’s just ‘cause you’re drunk.”

“If I have low standards, explain why I picked you.”

“Fuck, you’re talkative when you’re drunk.”

“Explain to me, Franco.”

Franco shushed him, and continued making those fucking annoying ‘shh, shh’ sounds whenever Isco tried to speak, and a few minutes later it made Isco want to pee so he rolled out of bed and onto the floor with a loud whine.

He relieved himself and then realised he hadn’t showered, so he lay down half inside the bathroom and half in the bedroom and he whined loudly again for Franco, who sighed and rolled over to see what the fuck was going on.

“I gotta shower,” Isco said sadly. “Take my things for me.”

“Skip the shower and get in bed,” Franco suggested.

“I’m dirty. You’ll be mad.”

Franco laughed. “I won’t. Promise.”

“You’ll give me a kiss?” Isco asked, stumbling to his feet and towards the bed.

“I will.”

Surely enough, he wrapped Isco back up in his warm arms and showered his face with kisses. “I don’t need a water shower when I got a kiss shower,” Isco cooed. “Don’t need to sleep with the cup if I can sleep with you.”

“Okay, be quiet now or I won’t kiss you anymore.”

“Okay,” Isco said obediently. He was somewhat aware he was an annoying drunk. He just couldn’t _help it._

“Go to sleep now,” Franco whispered as Isco gave another sigh. “I love you.”

“Love you too,” Isco murmured, pulling Franco’s arm more tightly around him.

He fell asleep to the sound of Franco softly breathing in his ear about how beautiful he was.

\------

Paulo was silent all the way back to Alvaro’s room, which had space for him now that Isco was frolicking around with Franco or whatever. In fact, it didn’t even seem like he wanted to go to Alvaro’s room. He just stepped into the lift and glanced at Alvaro reluctantly, waiting for Alvaro to press the button for his floor.

Alvaro did, and the lift ride up was the most awkward thing Alvaro had ever experienced with Paulo. The limited air in the elevator almost crackled with static.

He reached over and took Paulo’s hand in his. Paulo let him do it.

“So what’d you do with Franco?” Alvaro asked. The mere mention – the mere _sight_ of Paulo just lying there being petted by Franco was enough for the flames of jealousy to rise at Alvaro’s feet.

“Build a Lego helicopter,” Paulo said.

“And?”

Paulo turned and. And glared at Alvaro. “Well, what else do you want us to do?”

“I don’t know, you were just fucking lying with him in bed.”

“Are you fucking mad at me now? You can’t be serious.”

“You think I wouldn’t be mad seeing you lying in bed with another dude?” Alvaro demanded, hot tears pricking his eyes as Paulo flung his hand aside.

“You wouldn’t be if you trusted me,” Paulo said bitterly. He stormed out of the lift once the doors opened, but realised he didn’t know where to go so he had to wait for Alvaro to lead the way. To Alvaro’s surprise, he didn’t get back into the lift and go back to his own room.

Alvaro headed to the bathroom for a shower once they got into the room. When he got out, Paulo was lying in Isco’s bed. Alvaro stood staring at his back for a while, not exactly knowing what to do; a confusion made worse by all the fucking champagne Alvaro had drunk earlier. He went over to where Paulo was and attempted to get in behind him.

“Sleep in your own bed,” Paulo snapped.

Alvaro backed away and got under his own sheets. He turned off the lights and lay down facing Paulo, just staring at him, willing himself not to fall asleep until he found a way to make this right.

“Paulo,” he eventually called, after the longest, darkest silence.

“What?” Paulo said after a pause, and he sounded like he was crying.

“Are you mad at me?”

“No,” Paulo said after another pause.

“Why are you crying?”

“I’m not crying,” Paulo sniffled.

A longer silence.

“We didn’t get to take any photos together just now,” Alvaro said.

“Do you –” Paulo started, then stopped like he was choking on his tears. “Do you seriously think I’d want to take a photo with a trophy I just lost?”

“No, but –”

“Why is there even a ‘but’ in this, Alvaro? It’s simple. You won and I lost. I’m happy for you and I’m proud of you. Just. Just let me be sad for myself, okay?”

“You shouldn’t be sad,” Alvaro said softly. “You’ll have so many more chances in the future.”

“Will I?” Paulo asked. Suddenly he sounded. He sounded _infuriated._ “You only say that because – because you’ve never actually lost something, Alvaro. Since the first time you’ve touched a ball you’ve just been winning and winning and winning. You don’t know how it feels like to lose, to get to somewhere and believe that you can have the entire world to yourself and then in the end having it all go away and not knowing when the next time would come that you’d be able to get another try. You _always_ get your hands on the trophy in the end. You’ve never had to worry about this. So you can’t tell me, okay, Alvaro, you can’t tell me that I shouldn’t be sad, that I should look forward to everything that I can become. You can’t tell me that. Because I _am_ sad, it’s not a choice. I’ve never had this stability and I don’t know when is the next time I can ever do something this big again and not fuck up.”

“You didn’t fuck up,” Alvaro whispered, his heart pounding desperately in his chest as he tried not to cry. “Paulo. You didn’t. You are so great and you’ll be so great, I just know it.”

“I don’t.”

“I just – I thought maybe you’d be happy for me.”

“I’m trying to be, okay?” Paulo said so loudly that Alvaro was afraid his teammates in the surrounding rooms would hear him. But then again he remembered they were all drunk as fuck, so never mind. “It’s just that – maybe I can’t be with you right now. I can’t feel how you want me to feel. Not when I’m right here on the losing side. That’s why I went to Franco. Because he’d understand. He’s not...not _blinded_ by victory. He is the only person who would understand me right now, Alvaro. He’s the only person who can give me what I need.”

And Alvaro. Alvaro felt a fury rise within him that he could not help but release and in that moment, did not have the ability to control anyway, even if he’d wanted to.

So he asked Paulo, “Is that why you were fucking around with him?”

Paulo sat up in bed and turned to Alvaro. “I _wasn’t fucking around with Franco.”_

“Weren’t you?”

“Why is it always you? Why is it that you always have to act all defensive and overprotective even over the smallest things? Not everybody is like you. Not everyone can fall in love or want to have sex with someone just because that person put their hand in your hair or let you lie on them. Did you see Isco? Did you see how he reacted? He didn’t even _care_. That’s how it _should be,_ Alvaro. That’s the level of trust I thought we were on.”

“It’s hard to trust you when I open the door to the both of you just fucking cuddling in bed.”

“Fuck you, Alvaro,” Paulo said through gritted teeth, standing up and walking to the door without even turning to look at Alvaro. “I’ve loved you since the first time I saw you. I’ve loved you for eight fucking years. I thought that was enough.”

He made it a point to slam the door loudly when he left, leaving Alvaro alone in the dark room, a mixture of cold, drunk, lonely, afraid, and just the slightest remaining twinge of joy.


	3. Rough Winds Do Shake The Darling Buds Of May

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!  
> Sorry for the late update! Work is reallyyy taking its toll on me more than I expected. Thank you all so so much for being patient with me! You can always contact me on [tumblr](http://bernerdeschi.tumblr.com) to ask me when's the next chapter if you like. But rest assured I won't abandon this fic! I may take a little longer but I will finish it as well as the part 4 that I've promised you.
> 
> I have also made a playlist for this fic! [You can check it out here, if you like :)](https://open.spotify.com/user/mandzilkos/playlist/7lK6jq9rJQEg4YQ6DUfa0O)  
> Along with this, I've also slightly updated the playlists for AEIB ([here](https://open.spotify.com/user/mandzilkos/playlist/3VhjeM5HLitEyiMD7xCs1I)) and CALC ([here](https://open.spotify.com/user/mandzilkos/playlist/1eyFXj6qVXAK1goeJguv5m)). I hope you like them!
> 
> Lastly, since part 1 and part 2 had short titles which were so convenient to abbreviate and this part doesn't (thanks, Shakespeare), we could call it Summer's Day (SD) for short if you wanna talk about it.
> 
> Thank you and enjoy!

The next day, Paulo left the group text conversation.

The remaining three proceeded to have a very heated discussion in the text window, despite the fact that they were all in the same hotel and Isco and Franco were literally sitting right next to each other on the bed.

 _Did you fight with him?_ Isco asked.

 _Kinda,_ Alvaro replied.

 _What do you mean kinda? It's a yes or a no,_ Franco said.

_Shut the fuck up, Vazquez._

Isco turned to Franco. Franco shrugged.

 _Maybe he just needs some time,_ Isco contributed, just to diffuse the tension.

_I don’t get why he’s mad at me._

_What did you say to him?_

_I told him not to be sad._

_And?_

_That he’ll have many more chances._

_And? You must’ve done something._

_I just thought he’d be a little happier for me._

“My God,” Franco said aloud after silently observing the texts between Isco and Alvaro. “It’s hard to believe he’s an adult.”

Isco laughed softly. “Well, I’m sure they’ll work it out.”

“Yeah,” Franco said.

“You talked to Paulo yesterday, right?” Isco asked. “What did he say?”

“Just that he was sad,” Franco said. “And that Alvaro wouldn’t understand.”

“I guess he really doesn’t.”

“He needs a spanking.”

“How kinky,” Isco said, laughing when Franco turned to glare at him. “Well, do you wanna spank him?”

“Hell no.”

“What else did you and Paulo talk about?”

“Nothing, really. He was just sad and he said he fucked up.”

“It’s normal to feel like that. After a loss.”

“Yeah.”

A long silence. Isco picked up his phone and texted Alvaro, _So what else happened?_

Alvaro didn’t reply for like, ten minutes. Then, _I’ll tell you later._

“He doesn’t want me to know,” Franco suggested.

“Why does it matter? He knows I’ll tell you anyway.”

“Maybe you won’t. Depending on what it is.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, he’s your friend. I wouldn’t blame you if you took his side.”

Isco narrowed his eyes. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”

“No.”

“Really?”

Franco stared at him for a while like he was truly contemplating something. Then he said, “Yeah.”

Isco stared back at him. If Franco had something to say, Isco trusted him to say it.

But all Franco said was, “You gotta go or you’ll be late.”

Honestly, Isco could care less about his team’s dumb celebration or their flight back to Madrid. Not if Franco had something to talk to him about. He would gladly listen to Franco speak for the entire two-hour flight from Cardiff to Madrid.

“Go,” Franco said again when Isco didn’t speak. “I’ll see you in Madrid.”

Isco narrowed his eyes further. It was a bad idea, frankly. Isco was still hungover as fuck and it was hurting his head to do things with his eyes.

“Kiss,” Franco said, leaning over towards Isco but not moving out of his side of the bed. He’d been doing that the entire morning, like he was just disgusted at how dirty Isco’s side of the bed must be since he’d gotten into it without showering.

Isco obliged, kneeling next to Franco and smooching him on the lips. “I love you,” he whispered.

“Love you too,” Franco smiled. “See you later.”

“See ya,” Isco said. He hopped off the bed and opened his eyes, which was a fucking mistake, because he blacked out and fell back on his butt on the bed.

“What?” Franco asked, and he sounded amused. Isco didn’t turn around, but he could tell.

“My head hurts so bad,” Isco whined.

“And _I’m_ the one who can’t hold my liquor,” Franco murmured. He reached for his sunglasses on the side table and passed them to Isco. “Take these.”

Isco put them on. “How do I look?”

“Handsome.”

“No, seriously.”

“The most handsome man on the planet.”

Isco rolled his eyes again and immediately regretted it _again_. He could _never win_ with Franco. He walked over to the door and opened it. “Bye,” he said.

“You also look really stupid wearing them indoors!” Franco called as the door clicked shut.

Isco grabbed the door handle and pushed but the door had already locked. He knocked on it and pressed the doorbell until Franco was annoyed enough to come and open the door for him. The moment he did, Isco raised a middle finger in his face.

Franco burst into adoring laughter. He grabbed Isco by the cheeks and squeezed them together, pulling Isco towards him. He kissed Isco on the lips a few times, making loud kissy noises.

Then he flung Isco into the corridor and shut the door, leaving Isco alone and suddenly just really missing Franco even though he was literally just on the other side of the door.

Isco sighed. He was just going to scrape through the day with this bloody headache and then he could see Franco again and everything would be okay. _Everything would be okay._

Isco headed back to his own room to pick up his things, hoping that his teammates would be too hungover to bother him, especially Alvaro.

\------

Alvaro was smart. Man, that boy was smart. He waited until they were on the flight back to Madrid to bother Isco, hoping that Isco’s hangover would’ve subsided by then.

Unfortunately, it hadn’t.

Isco was leaning against the window snoozing when Alvaro leaned over and said, “Hey.”

Isco winced. “Don’t yell at me, I’m right beside you.”

“I’m not yell – never mind,” Alvaro said, this time in a whisper. “Can I talk to you?”

“Yeah?” Isco said, keeping his eyes closed. Maybe if he used less of his senses then he wouldn't feel so horrible.

“It's about Paulo.”

“Mmhmm.”

“Remember when we went to Franco’s room, and the both of them were lying in bed together?”

“Yeah? They were doing some lame Lego stuff.”

“They were cuddling.”

Isco wrinkled his nose. “No, Paulo was just lying on him.”

“That's cuddling.”

“No it's not. Don't you trust your boyfriend?” Isco asked.

Alvaro didn't respond.

“Was this what you fought about?” Isco prodded further.

Alvaro still didn't respond.

“Fucking hell, Alvaro, you're fucking stupid.”

“What?” Alvaro said, hurt. “You can't tell me you wouldn't be upset seeing your boyfriend cuddling with some other dude.”

“I _can,_ because _I was there_ , remember, and I _saw it too_. Remember?” Isco opened his eyes for the sole purpose of rolling them at Alvaro.

“But how do you know they were just – that it was all?”

“Because Franco is my boyfriend and he loves me and I trust him, and even if he didn't love me I still would because Franco is the most righteous person I have ever met. He doesn't like Paulo that way and he and Paulo had never been anything more than fuck buddies, Alvaro, I thought we’d established that five times before.”

“He was aro, before, when he was with Paulo,” Alvaro said in a tiny voice. “He's not now.”

“How does that make any difference at all?”

“He feels romantic things now.”

“For _me. For me,_ Alvaro. Not Paulo. Not any random dude on the street.”

“Well, there's a chance.”

“A chance that what? That he’ll fall for Paulo?”

“You can't deny that.”

“I can, because you don't know Franco like I do,” Isco said, just. Just really angry and tired and he just couldn't be bothered with Alvaro’s nonsense. “And if you can't sort out your childishness then I can't help you any more.”

Alvaro went quiet and Isco closed his eyes again with a sigh. The cabin was only filled with the white noise of the plane. Everyone else was probably hungover as fuck, just like Isco. It was a wonder Alvaro was still alert. Maybe the fight had done that to him.

A little while later Alvaro still hadn’t spoken and Isco thought he’d gotten mad, and he felt a little bad for just scolding Alvaro like that, so he opened his eyes.

Alvaro wasn’t mad. He was just. He just sat there looking really sad and Isco sighed again.

“I thought winning this was gonna be a happy thing,” Alvaro said softly.

“It is,” Isco said.

Alvaro gestured agitatedly at the space in front of him.

“You just have to talk to him,” Isco said. “You guys just have to talk. Maybe when all the disappointment has subsided. Maybe now you should just enjoy yourself, party it out of your system, and then after a week or so Paulo will feel better and you can talk to him.”

“You’ll help me? You’ll be on my side?”

“I’ll be _by_ your side. But I’m not on your side in this. It’s not an issue of sides. It’s not going to be you and me versus Paulo and Franco. It’s not going to be like that.”

A slight pause, then Alvaro said, “Okay.”

“Paulo’s disappointed. You can’t blame him for it.”

“He could’ve told me.”

“You should’ve known, oh my God,” Isco said, reaching over and giving Alvaro’s head a few knocks. “What’s inside here? Surely not a brain.”

“Fuck you,” Alvaro struggled to push him away. “Well, he could’ve talked to me about it.”

“That’s the point, he didn’t want you to be upset for him. Because you won. He went to Franco because he didn’t want to ruin your mood, because he knew that you wouldn’t understand even if you tried.”

“How do you know that?”

“Everyone knows that. Everyone can see it except you because you’re too fucking jealous.”

Alvaro gave a little ‘tsk.’ “It just makes me feel like I’m his second choice.”

“You have never been his second choice, Alvaro. Never. You’re not even his _choice_. You’re his default. It has always been you. Right from the start.”

“How could you possibly know that? You’ve barely even spoken three sentences to Paulo, ever.”

Isco gave his head a few taps to show Alvaro it wasn’t hollow.

Alvaro shoved him in the shoulder, hard, and then burst into laughter when Isco did so. It was. It was a rather striking sound, but Isco was relieved.

“You should learn to think for people sometimes,” Isco said.

“I am. I do.”

“Not enough.”

“I’m improving.”

“Try harder.”

“Do you think Paulo will forgive me?”

“Well, if I were him, I wouldn’t,” Isco said, deadpan. “But I’m not him, and he’s fucking in love with you for some reason, so I guess he will.”

“I’m still mad at him for cuddling with Franco.”

“Franco has too many cuddles to give. You should get some from him. Maybe they’ll help you calm down.”

“Fuck you.”

“It helped Paulo calm down,” Isco pointed out.

“His fucking hand was in Paulo’s hair. Isco, you can’t tell me that doesn’t mean something.”

“It doesn’t. These things mean differently to Franco than they do to us. And Paulo knows that. That’s why he allowed it.”

“Why aren’t you mad? I don’t understand why you aren’t mad.”

“Stop being fucking jealous, you’re not five years old.”

Alvaro pouted. Okay, so in some ways, he was a five-year-old.

“You don’t trust Franco, do you?” Isco asked.

Alvaro nodded curtly.

“Do you trust me?” Isco asked.

Alvaro nodded again.

“Will you believe me when I say that Franco has never been into Paulo, he isn’t, and he never will be? Franco and I...this is the first time Franco has ever felt or did something like this. He’s never felt it with Paulo. It’s just...it’s difficult to explain to you. It involves a lot of googling. The point is, Franco has always been very clear with me and with himself about everything between him and Paulo. And it’s not going to happen.”

“You guys have talked about it?”

“Yeah. More than once.”

Another pause from Alvaro, then, “How do you get the courage to talk about these things?”

Isco shrugged. “It’s just. Neither of us want to leave it hanging, I guess.”

“I know I should trust Paulo,” Alvaro said, and he sounded like he was going to cry. _Alvaro_ sounded like he was going to _cry_. Which scared Isco to _death_ , honestly. He thought maybe all the alcohol was having some kind of late-onset effect on Alvaro. “But I just. All I’ve ever wanted was for Paulo to be safe. That’s all I’ve wanted since the first day I realised I was in love with him. And I’m worried, I’m constantly worried that I can’t give him enough. Because I’ve hurt him too many times over all these years and I’m afraid that one day he’ll decide that he’s had enough and he’ll leave, and I won’t see it coming. Whenever there is the slightest sign that Paulo is slipping away, I panic. I don’t like it. I don’t like that I do this because it’s not fair to him for me to reel him back every time. I just. I love him so much, Isco, I love him so much that I’ve gone and ruined it. Again.”

“You haven’t ruined it,” Isco said softly. He understood this kind of love. The tight, suffocating love that was the only kind Alvaro knew how to give. The kind that made you feel like you were tied to a tree with the softest rope ever made. “You have to let go a little bit. Sometimes to keep something close to your heart, you have to let it go.”

Alvaro went quiet again. He stared ahead of him, jaw clenched like he was willing his tears not to fall, for the next twenty minutes. Isco fidgeted next to him, unsure if it was safe to go to sleep.

“Maybe I’ll just leave him to be angry for a few days,” Alvaro finally said, out of the blue. “I mean, there’s a chance he’ll just think that I’m not gonna bother about him anymore and –”

“Stop there, just the first part is good,” Isco said.

“Okay,” Alvaro said. He gave Isco a small smile.

The rest of the flight went on in silence.

When they landed everyone woke up and suddenly the whole plane was just filled with grumbling, and suddenly Lucas said really loudly – legitimately loudly and not because Isco’s hungover brain had amplified it – “Hey, you guys know the best way to deal with a hangover?”

“No,” everyone groaned in zero synchrony.

“We drink even more!” he said, then proceeded to brisk walk down the aisle and right out of the plane.

And well, that seemed like a pretty good idea, so Real Madrid, the European champions of the season, headed out into their city to celebrate like kings.

\------

Franco spent the entire day lazing around on Isco’s couch with Bubu, watching the celebrations on TV. He showered twice, once to get the airplane smell off him and once because he’d gone outside for some air and regretted it immediately because it was so hot and he had been instantly slathered in sweat.

He cooked lunch but the portion was too big so he ended up eating it for dinner, too, while watching another documentary about black holes. He fell asleep in the evening, warm and shirtless, in the pitch black living room, with Bubu curled up at his feet.

When he woke up it was ten pm and Isco hadn’t returned.

Franco sighed and sat up. He turned on the lights and the TV and watched the news for a while. Then he turned to the sports channel, where they were talking about whether it would have been fair to expect neither Paulo or Alvaro to have played in the Champions League final. God, people were so dumb. Paulo and Alvaro hadn’t even been on the pitch at the same time. What more could they have asked for?

The next football channel Franco turned to was talking about where Paulo and Alvaro’s loyalties lay; if they cared more for each other than they did for the trophy. They were talking about how hard Alvaro had celebrated and how he didn’t seem to care for Paulo’s feelings. And how Paulo didn’t seem to be happy for his boyfriend at all.

Franco was so mad he threw the remote on the floor, and it cracked open so Franco taped it up and hoped Isco wouldn’t notice.

This was so unfair. It was so unfair to expect all these things from Paulo and Alvaro, for them to respect the tournament _and_ each other at the same time. Someone was inevitably going to get hurt or offended along the way. Franco just. He felt so _angry_ and so _defensive_ over his friends.

And yet Franco couldn’t truly say anything for them because he hadn’t been a part of it. He had no idea how they truly felt and he was never going to really understand. No matter how hard he tried. He couldn’t even defend his friends if he tried to, couldn’t ever feel enough of this to do them justice.

He sat on the couch fuming until Isco returned home near midnight.

He didn’t look drunk, surprisingly. He just smelled a little like beer and sweat and he looked a little tired, and he collapsed on the couch next to Franco and leaned on Franco until Franco pushed him away because he stunk.

“I’m tired,” Isco whined.

“What did you do today?” Franco asked.

“Jumped around a whole lot,” Isco mumbled sleepily.

“Did you drink more?”

“Just a little bit more because your long-lost cousin said the only way to deal with a hangover is to drink even more.”

Franco laughed. “You need some sleep. Go shower.”

“Come shower with me.”

“I’m clean.”

Isco shimmied over and wrapped his arms tightly around Franco, pressing himself up against Franco. “No, now you’re not.”

“Get off me,” Franco said, but Isco only moved closer and wrapped his legs around Franco too, like a little bear. He nuzzled Franco’s cheek with his nose.

“Now you need a shower,” he said adoringly.

Franco sighed. He stood up with Isco clinging to him and carried Isco to the bathroom, where he had to slowly take off all of Isco’s clothes while Isco tortured him with his grabby hands. He calmed down significantly, fortunately, when they got into the shower. He stood there with his eyes closed, babbling about everything he did during the celebrations, as Franco scrubbed him clean. Franco nodded and made little approving grunts as he listened, trying to soak up as much as Isco would allow him to.

Isco wasn't tired enough to fall asleep once he got into bed, though, so he lay there with his phone, texting the Real Madrid group chat. Franco lay next to him playing with his hair, occasionally nudging Isco’s arm so his phone fell on his face. It was good entertainment.

“So what happened with Paulo and Alvaro?” Franco asked when there was a break in texting as Isco moved his head onto Franco’s shoulder.

“Alvaro was just being dumb. I talked to him.”

“Is he just mad that Paulo wasn’t happy for him?”

Isco paused everything he was doing for a while, then said, “Yeah.”

“So what’s he gonna do now?”

“He’s gonna let Paulo stew for a few days.”

Franco gave a little grunt. There was a short silence. Isco continued texting.

“Did you have fun today?” Franco asked.

“Mmhmm.”

Then he just stopped talking altogether and continued texting, and Franco gave this soft sigh of slight frustration but Isco didn’t even notice.

Isco eventually fell asleep loosely clutching his phone, which was almost constantly lighting up with new messages. He snored against Franco’s chest and Franco couldn’t help but feel all his irritation dissolve into nothing.

He took Isco’s phone and put it on the bedside table, resisting the overwhelming temptation to look at the messages and get another feel of what was going on. He really, really wanted to. But he didn’t. He put the phone face-down on the table and moved Isco gently back onto his pillow.

He sat in bed for a while doing nothing, just thinking, not being able to sleep because of his evening nap. Then he got up and went outside to the living room, where it was slightly cooler.

He just sat in the dark, alone, not turning on the TV. He closed his eyes and tried to chase the uneasiness away, but he failed. Franco wouldn’t have minded feeling uneasy if he knew the reason why. But he didn’t. He hated being uneasy and not being able to pinpoint exactly why. He stared at the red digital clock on the TV console. The colon separating the hour and minute digits blinked every second. Franco watched it.

When the clock blinked 01:53 Franco heard some rustling and then the shuffling of Isco’s feet as he dragged them to the living room and stood there across from Franco, the blanket wrapped warmly around him.

Franco turned to him. There were two grey spots in the middle of his face, courtesy of the clock Franco had been staring at for so long.

“Can’t sleep?” Isco asked, his voice still thick with sleep. He shuffled his way over, the blanket dragging on the ground behind him. He curled up next to Franco and leaned into Franco’s chest, a nice little ball of familiar warmth, unlike the uncomfortable sticky warmth of the impending Spanish summer. “Wassup?”

Franco smiled. “Nothing,” he whispered. He slid his fingers into Isco’s hair.

“Really?”

“Mmhmm.”

“You’ve been quiet,” Isco noted. “Distant.”

“I haven’t.”

“You have.”

Franco went quiet, distracting himself with the texture of the blanket. He was a little confused – and marvelled – by how Isco still needed the blanket wrapped so tightly around him despite the weather.

“See?” Isco said.

“What?”

“You’re being distant.”

“I am not.”

“You would’ve asked me what I wanted to talk about.”

“Well, what do you wanna talk about?”

“It doesn’t work this way, Franco.”

“What do you want me to do?”

Isco pulled himself out of Franco’s arms and sat up. “Are you mad at me?” he asked timidly.

Franco smiled. “I’m not. I swear.”

“Did anything happen? Did someone say something, or do something?”

Franco shook his head.

And Isco looked. He just suddenly looked so tiny and frightened and his eyes were shimmering both with sleep and with the beginning of tears. He got on his knees and stretched an arm out of the blanket to gently touch Franco’s cheek.

“Talk to me,” he whispered. “Please.”

“I don’t know how to start,” Franco said, just. Just being honest.

Isco removed his hand and leaned into Franco again, this time pulling Franco’s arm around his shoulder. He closed his eyes and pressed his cheek against Franco’s chest. He didn’t say anything, like he was trying to tell Franco he would wait for as long as Franco needed. Like he was trying to tell Franco, _here, here I am, here I will always be._

“You know I’m happy that you won the Champions League,” Franco started softly, his hand returning to Isco’s hair.

Isco nodded. He tensed up a bit, like he was afraid of what Franco was going to say.

“But?” he asked.

God, Isco really just. He knew Franco _too well._

“It’s just – it’s not just that, you know?” Franco said slowly, afraid that he’d just say one wrong word and set Isco off or, even worse, hurt Isco. “I know, for you, it’s simple. It’s just one thing. You won and you only have to feel one thing, and that is happiness.”

“And what else do you feel?” Isco asked, fingers twirling the hem of Franco’s shorts.

“I just feel like...I don’t really get it, you know? I’m happy for you, of course. You already know that. But at the same time there’s just...so many other things. You three are my closest friends. There’s Paulo, and I’ve known Paulo for the longest time. There’s things people are saying –”

“What are people saying?”

“Not about us. Mostly about Paulo and Alvaro.”

“And?”

“I feel like I just – I can’t feel what you’re feeling. And I’m sorry. I’m trying so hard. I’ve been trying so hard since the day you three found out you were all getting in the final, and I’ve been trying for this entire month, more than a month, but I can’t figure it out. I don’t understand and I don’t know if this is enough. This experience, it’s – Isco. I know you’ve been trying so hard to make me a part of it. But I just feel like I can’t be. And the more I try, the more you try, it just makes it worse.”

Isco went quiet for a while, fingers still rhythmically moving. Franco combed through Isco’s hair worriedly, waiting for his response.

“I’m sorry I made you feel left out,” was what he finally said.

“It’s not – it’s not you,” Franco said. He hated that he made isco blame himself. Again.

“I just,” Isco swallowed. “I’ve been trying so hard. To make you part of it.”

“I know,” Franco whispered. “It’s not that. It’s not you.”

“I’m sorry that I’ve been neglecting you.”

“You haven’t. You really haven’t.”

“I’m sorry,” Isco mumbled.

“No,” Franco gulped and it ended in a little gasping sob. “I just. I feel...obligated. To be happy for you. Like, fifty percent obligation and fifty percent true happiness. And it’s not your fault, I just. Alarcon. My loyalties, they don’t lie with Real Madrid. They lie with you. They lie with you, and Sevilla, and they lie with Paulo. And I can’t make myself feel happier for you than I already am. I need to stop trying, I need to convince myself that it’s okay. I need _you_ to stop trying. And I need to know that that’s okay with you.”

Isco paused for a really, really long while, then nodded. “Yeah, it’s okay with me.”

“Really?”

Isco nodded. He went quiet again, just pushed his head further into Franco’s chest.

Then he said, “I can never give you what you want. What you need. I try so hard. I want you to be happy and I want it to be with me. But I can't seem to get it right.”

“Of course I'm happy with you.”

“I'm not enough for you. I'm still not enough.”

“No,” Franco whispered, horrified. “That's not what I mean at all.”

“But it's true.”

“It's not. Alarcon, c'mon. Look at me,” Franco gently grabbed Isco’s head in his hands and pulled Isco into a sitting position. Isco was. He was crying and biting his lip to not make a sound, and Franco – God, Franco just wanted to die. “You are enough. You always have been. Always will be.”

“Yeah?” Isco asked, his voice ragged.

“I promise,” Franco said. He ran his thumbs along Isco’s cheekbones. “This isn't something you can control. It isn't something you can change. Maybe...maybe if I were playing for your team, or if I were playing for Juventus. Then it would be easy. Straightforward. But now, it's – it's all over the place. And it isn't your fault. Me not being a part of this...it doesn’t mean I love you any less, or you love me any less. And I don’t want to feel that way. I don’t want _you_ to feel that way. I'm so proud of you, Isco Alarcon, and I'm so happy that you're happy. I need you to know that.”

Isco nodded. He curled his fingers around Franco’s wrists. They barely went all the way around.

“I’m sorry I’m never enough,” he said.

“Don’t say that,” Franco whispered. He gave Isco’s cheeks a squeeze. “You are. You’re enough. Not only for me. You’re enough just as you are. You’re more than that. You’re so fucking full I’m always in awe of how you keep it in.”

“Yeah?” Isco asked again.

“I would never lie to you.”

Isco went quiet again, just gazed over sadly at Franco. And Franco knew exactly what he was thinking. Because Franco _had_ lied to him before. One very, very big lie about the Betis fans in Seville. Neither of them needed to say a word, but Franco knew they were both thinking about the same thing.

“Not again,” Franco added.

Isco gave the tiniest of smiles. He dipped his head in a half-hearted nod.

“I love you,” Franco whispered.

Isco’s smile grew. “I love you, too.”

“You’re not gonna break up with me and run away again, are you?”

Isco’s smile burst into a little giggle. “This is my house. I have nowhere to run.”

“I’ll run, then, if you want me to.”

“No,” Isco said before Franco could even finish. He crawled into Franco’s lap and lunged at Franco, wrapping his arms – and the blanket – around Franco in a suffocating hug; although in that moment, Franco didn’t care about how much sweat was pouring out his pores. “For fuck’s sake, don’t.”

“I’m sorry I made you sad,” Franco said against Isco’s ear.

Isco shook his head and his hair tickled Franco’s cheek. “Franco.”

“Yeah?” Franco said. Isco seemed to hesitate. “Just say what you want to say. Anything.”

“Remember – remember at the start of our relationship, I told you we were gonna do it our way, slowly, however we want to?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I remember it, too,” Isco said, crying again. “I remember it clearly, I remember I said it, but I just. I keep assuming I know what’s good for you. I don’t. In reality, I really, really don’t. And I know that you love that I try. I love that I try, too. But I try too hard. Franco, I try too hard and I end up hurting you and I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry,” Franco whispered. He was just. He could feel his heart shatter into little pieces that he couldn’t put back together himself. “It’s not your fault. I know you want the best for me. I know that and I love that you do. I want the best for you, too. You know that, right?”

“I do,” Isco sighed and sniffled. “And you give it to me. But I can’t do the same for you.”

“You have to stop saying that. Stop thinking that. Stop blaming yourself for every little thing that goes wrong. You have the biggest heart of anybody I know, the biggest heart in the world, and I love you and I love all that you’ve given me. I wouldn’t change a thing. I wouldn’t exchange it for anything else. I love you and I love all our fun. And I have you. Which is all that matters, all that is ever going to matter to me. Okay? I love you, Francisco Alarcon. I love you.”

Isco tried pulling away from the hug but Franco stopped him, wrapping his arms around Isco so tightly Isco gasped for air. “I just,” he sobbed. “I’m not good at relationships. Never been. And now, it’s – it’s June, in a couple months it’ll be our anniversary. And this will be nearly the longest I’ve ever been with someone. I’m scared, Franco. Somewhere inside of me I guess...I guess I’m still scared of a relationship. I’ve never done a relationship right and this relationship – I would rather die than get it wrong again. And I’m scared that this – this thing, how bad I am at this, it’s gonna come back at me. It’s gonna come back and I want to make sure it doesn’t take you away from me.”

“It won’t,” Franco promised. “I swear, it won’t. I love you just the way you are and I want you to just be yourself, because this is who I fell in love with and this is who I will love for the rest of my life. I’ll talk to you, okay? I’ll talk to you if I feel there’s anything wrong, if I don’t feel comfortable, or whatever. Okay? I promise.”

“Yeah?” Isco’s shoulders gave a shudder. “You will? Yeah?”

“As long as you don’t blame yourself for it.”

“I’ll try.”

Franco smiled. Isco was. Isco was the most precious thing in Franco’s entire universe and Franco, just like Isco, would rather die than let this relationship go. But part of him was surprised to hear that Isco was as scared of a relationship as Franco had been at the start. Pleasantly surprised. Because they were in it _together_ , and they were going to grow together and be happy together, and there was nothing else Franco wanted more.

“Don’t you ever feel sorry about yourself, okay?” Franco whispered.

Isco nodded against Franco’s shoulder. He pushed his cheek further into it and sighed. “Who am I gonna feel sorry about, then?”

Franco laughed. “Maybe all the other Iscos in the other infinite universes who have never met Franco Vazquez.”

“I already do,” Isco said. “Pathetic little fuckers.”

Franco pulled Isco’s head out of his shoulder and held him by the cheeks. He wasn’t crying anymore, just sniffling a little, his eyes red-rimmed. “I’m sorry,” Franco whispered, a thudding ache in his heart.

Isco shook his head. He placed his hands on Franco’s cheeks, mirroring Franco. “I love you,” he said.

“I love you, too,” Franco smiled. “Always.”

“I don't want to lose you.”

“I won't let you.”

“You know you can tell me anything, right?” Isco asked, thumbs slowly beginning to trace little circles in Franco’s stubble. “Anything. Even if you think it'll hurt me or make me sad. Even if it's disgusting or it'll make me angry. If it's the truth, I'll always listen to you.”

“Yeah,” Franco smiled. “You know it's the same for you.”

“It won’t be annoying? It won’t be me...trying too hard?”

“It’s different. You talking to me about stuff is different from you...trying to get me to be a part of something that I’m not. And me listening to you – I love listening to you, Alarcon – is different from me feeling like I _need_ to listen to you. I can listen to you all day without feeling a need. That’s...that’s all I want. Yeah? You understand?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too. Thank you for...for talking to me. About this.”

“Is there anything you wanna talk about?” Franco asked. He twirled a bunch of Isco's hair around his finger. When he let go, it bounced upright. It made Franco smile.

“A little, yeah,” Isco said softly.

“What is it?” Franco asked. He gave Isco a little kiss on the lips for good measure.

“It’s just,” Isco sat back on his heels and shrugged off the blanket like he _finally_ realised it was warm. it fell on the floor and Franco tried to ignore it. “You know how Alvaro and I had a talk?”

“Yeah? Is he mad at me?”

“How do you know that?” Isco blurted, then, “I mean, why would you say that?”

Franco shrugged. “He’s always mad at me for one reason or another.”

Isco laughed. He laughed and Franco’s heart did a little flip. “Well, you’re always mad at him, too.”

And that was true, so Franco couldn’t even argue. He picked the blanket up from the floor and dusted it off before folding it and putting it next to him. “What is he mad about this time?” he asked.

“You know last night,” Isco started cautiously. “When we came to your room, and Paulo was there?”

“Yeah?”

“Alvaro is jealous and he said your hand was in Paulo’s hair and that can’t possibly mean nothing to you,” Isco said in one breath like he was afraid if he stopped, he wouldn’t have the guts to finish.

“I –” Franco stammered, wrinkling his nose in disgust at Alvaro’s ridiculous opinions. “So – so he thinks I have a thing for Paulo?”

“Yeah, sorta.”

“Until now? It’s been like, ten years or something.”

“He said because you like me, so you’re not aro anymore, and he has more reason to worry that you’ll fall for Paulo.”

“It doesn’t work like that.”

“I know. I tried telling him that.”

“And he’s still mad at Paulo?”

“He’s just,” Isco sighed. “He’s just upset. He said he thought that winning the Champions League would be a happy thing, and he cried – okay, he didn’t _cry_ , but he was gonna – and he said he loved Paulo so much and whenever there’s this slightest sign that Paulo is slipping away, he panics and reels Paulo in. And – and you get that, don’t you? The...the sort of suffocating love.”

“Like yours. And mine.”

“Yeah,” Isco whispered, looking down at his hands and smiling at them. “Yeah.”

“He’s being overprotective,” Franco said.

“But do you blame him?” Isco asked. “Six years passed before he realised he could have what he wanted. Do you blame him for being paranoid of losing what he took six years of fighting to accept?”

Franco shook his head. “But...this is silly. Paulo is his own person. He’s allowed to be sad for himself while he loves Alvaro.”

“Exactly. Just like you’re allowed to be proud of me without feeling like you need to fit in.”

Franco smiled. He was. He was really proud and really happy that Isco understood. “Maybe I should knock some sense into him.”

“Like, physically?”

“No, virtually. Like, talk to him.”

“You could do it physically,” Isco suggested. “I mean, you’re in Madrid.”

And he’d said it so naturally and eagerly that Franco burst into laughter. “If I actually hit him, it’s your fault,” he said.

“I already hit him. On the head, to check if it’s hollow.”

And he said _that_ in such a proud tone that Franco started laughing again. He wrapped his arms around Isco and hugged him tightly. “Oh, I love you so fucking much.”

“‘Cause I hit Alvaro?” Isco asked, his voice muffled.

“‘Cause you’re you.”

Isco giggled. He nuzzled his head into the crook of Franco’s neck and closed his eyes. “They’ll be okay,” he said softly. “I know they’ll be okay.”

“I know, too.”

“I mean, if they’re not okay, what’s gonna happen to the rest of us?”

Franco smiled. He knew, even though he was in this constant judgemental state towards Alvaro; he’d always known that Paulo and Alvaro were made for each other, that they were the strongest couple anyone would ever know. He knew that there was no one else in the world more made for each other than Paulo was for Alvaro, and vice versa. Even Franco and Isco didn’t come close.

“I’ll call him tomorrow,” Franco whispered. “Maybe he needs to hear it from me.”

“You’ll be nice to him?” Isco asked sleepily. Bubu suddenly appeared around the corner and trotted lazily over to them, standing on his hind legs with his front paws on the couch for a while before hopping onto it.

“I will,” Franco said. Bubu clambered over Isco and burrowed under Franco’s arm.

“Take off your shirt,” Isco suddenly said.

“What?” Franco asked. It wasn’t like Franco would reject random sex, but. “Why?”

“You’re warm. I can feel your fucking warmth through your shirt. Take it off.”

So Franco took it off and it was cooler even when Isco curled back into him. Bubu decided that he’d settle on Franco’s lap. “How do you even stand this weather?”

“You should stop being so fucking pissy all the time, it makes your blood constantly boil. That’s it. It’s how angry you always are.”

“Fuck off,” Franco said, making Isco laugh. “I’m not angry all the time.”

“You are.”

Franco shoved Isco aside, not caring that he was actually proving Isco’s point. He lifted Bubu off his lap and cradled him, and Bubu gazed up at him with big beady eyes and his tongue hanging out the corner of his mouth, like he was marvelling at Franco. “You treat me the best,” Franco said, gently booping Bubu’s nose with his finger. “You’re the cutest and you love me and you know I’m not always mad.”

“Hey,” Isco said, hurt. “Are you trying to make me jealous? It’s not working.”

Franco laughed. He grabbed Bubu by his sides and held him up facing Isco. His tail started wagging and his tongue fell out further. “I woof you,” Franco said to Isco, giving Bubu a wiggle.

Isco burst into this. This loud, deafening laughter that seemed to rattle all the windows. He laughed and laughed and he collapsed on Franco in this weeping heap and he blabbered, “ _You woof me_.”

“I woof you very many,” Franco said in the ridiculous baby voice he only used when he was talking to Junior.

Isco’s laughter started up again and _God,_ Franco was simultaneously so amused and so helpless. He cradled Isco’s head in his other arm and just. Just watched Isco laugh. It was the most beautiful thing in the universe.

Then he got up and fetched his phone and made Franco hold Bubu up and say ‘I woof you’ again so Isco could take a video. So Franco did, and Isco showed it to him before posting it on his Instagram story. It was just shirtless Franco looking ridiculous and holding Bubu up like Bubu was a child, and saying ‘I woof you,’ and then the camera shaking uncontrollably because Isco burst into laughter again. It was embarrassing, but it made Isco’s day, so Franco was as willing as ever.

They spent the night sprawled out on the couch, Isco under one of Franco’s arms and Bubu under the other, talking about everything and talking about nothing at all. And as the minutes ticked by on the big red numbers Franco had been watching earlier, Franco realised he had been wrong.

Paulo and Alvaro weren’t the only people on earth who were made for each other.

Franco and Isco were, too.

\------

The day after Real Madrid’s celebrations back at home was a day off for everyone, before another parade and then finally dispersing for their summer holidays. Alvaro woke up alone in bed; he hated that he was even surprised, because Paulo was probably back in Turin just being fucking mad at everything.

He replaced breakfast with lying in bed and feeling awfully sorry for himself. His Champions League medal hung from his doorknob. Alvaro sent it occasional steely glares.

Just before lunchtime, he received a call from Isco.

“Yeah?” Alvaro said, balancing the phone on his ear as he lay on his side.

“Hey, Morata,” came a vaguely familiar voice. “It’s Franco.”

Alvaro’s mouth snapped shut, like he was conditioned not to entertain Franco whatsoever. He pressed his lips together in a frown.

“Don’t be fucking childish,” Franco said. Alvaro heard a loud slapping sound, then a little ‘ow,’ like Isco was hitting Franco for being mean. Which, well. He deserved it.

“What do you want?” Alvaro asked.

“Someone told me you’re mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you.”

“You think Paulo and I have a thing going on.”

Alvaro stayed quiet because he couldn’t exactly deny that.

“Morata,” Franco continued. “Listen to me.”

“What?”

“I don’t have feelings for Paulo. I never have and I never will. Just ‘cause I don’t identify as aro anymore doesn’t mean it’s suddenly easy for me to fall for someone. I love Paulo as a friend. I care for him and I want the best for him and I want him to be happy. That’s all from me. Nothing else. There is only one person in this entire world whom I love, and that is Isco Alarcon. It has always been. It has never changed and I don’t see it changing, ever. I would explain it to you, but. Knowing you, it’ll probably take an entire day, and I don’t have time for that.”

“Fuck you,” Alvaro said.

“What are you mad about?”

“You were cuddling with him. In bed. Touching him and everything,” Alvaro said, trying not to sob loudly.

Franco gave this. This really exasperated sigh. “It means nothing to me. Nothing to him, too. Paulo and I, we’ve...we’ve always been real good at doing this without any emotional attachment. It’s just been natural to us. So it’s just...it doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a physical action.”

“So,” Alvaro gulped. “So what’s the difference between, like, you doing it to Isco, and you doing it to Paulo?”

“The difference is that I love Isco,” Franco said softly. “And anything physical I do to him or with him, it isn’t just physical. There’s...all the emotions attached to it. It means something. But when I do it to Paulo, there’s nothing else. It’s literally just me putting my hand on his head, just like if you just went and put your hand on Lucas’ head, or whatever, when he’s feeling sad. It doesn’t mean you’re having an affair with Lucas, does it?”

“It sure as hell doesn’t,” Alvaro said. “I don’t feel anything in my stomach when I touch Lucas’ dumb head.”

And then Alvaro suddenly got it. It just clicked.

Franco laughed like he _knew_ Alvaro was suddenly enlightened. “It’s just that, exactly that,” he said. “It’s friendship. And Paulo knows that. He knows that just as well as I do. He loves you, Alvaro. He's loved you for longer than _anyone_ can remember. You have to trust him more than you do.”

“I just,” Alvaro paused to bite down on his lip. “I'm so sad that I can't give him what he needs. That he had to go to you.”

“You know Paulo wouldn't have gone to you. Never. You won and you were happy and Paulo would never do anything to get in the way of that if he could help it. He just needed a few hugs and encouraging words. And that's all I gave him. As a friend. Okay? Are you okay with that?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro whispered. He guessed. He guessed he was okay. Maybe he had to let loose a little.

“You know, you being this mad at Paulo for something like this,” Franco started again, still softly, like he just really wanted Alvaro to understand and didn't want to offend him or anything. Which was a welcome change. “It's very hurtful. Not just to him. But to me, too, and to Isco. The fact that you think that Paulo and I would do such a thing.”

“I'm sorry,” Alvaro sobbed. He was just. He hated and loved that Franco was always here to be the one to knock some sense into him. Because Franco did it in the best way.

“It’s okay. It's Paulo you need to talk to.”

“I just...maybe I have some trust issues,” Alvaro said hesitantly.

“You bet,” Franco said sourly, then laughed. “Yeah. Yeah, you do.”

“I don't want them.”

“Learn not to,” Franco suggested. “Paulo is – he's so trusting and he’s poured his entire heart, his entire life out for you, Alvaro. There's no need for you to be the slightest bit jealous. Paulo will always come back to you. _Always._ Without a shadow of a doubt. Everything he does, he does with your well-being in mind. It would do the both of you good if you start to believe that.”

Alvaro nodded before he realised Franco couldn't see him. “Franco, I just,” he whispered. “I love him so much.”

“I know,” Franco said tenderly. “Yeah. I know.”

“And I don't want to lose him but I'm scared of holding him too tightly.”

“Yeah,” Franco whispered. “I get that. I know that kind of love. I've felt it given to me.”

“Isco?”

“Yeah.”

“You ever given it back?”

“‘Course I have,” Franco said gently even though Alvaro had expected him to lash out. “Yeah.”

“It kinda...it kinda suffocates you, too, doesn't it? Like you're suffocating yourself.”

“It does,” Franco said thoughtfully, and fuck, Alvaro had never expected himself to ever be talking about love with Franco Vazquez, but there he was anyway.

“But I love that feeling. That feeling of loving someone so much it kills you slowly. It's better than the gaping hole Paulo leaves whenever I don't talk to him.”

Franco chuckled. “Mmhmm. Yeah.”

“You think Paulo and I will be okay?”

“Definitely. You guys just need to be on the same page. Maybe give him a couple of days.”

“Are you going to call him?” Alvaro asked.

“Yeah, maybe just to see how he's doing.”

“I just –” Alvaro squeezed his eyes shut. “I hope this isn't enough for him to...to, you know. Leave me.”

“It won't be,” Franco said kindly. “Alvaro, be happy. You've just won the Champions League. You deserve to be happy for yourself. Putting this aside for a while doesn't mean you love Paulo any less. Just like Paulo being sad for himself doesn't mean he loves you any less.”

“I'm trying,” Alvaro said. He just. Just suddenly understood. He had to let Paulo be himself,  be his own person, like he’d always been. Alvaro had always let him. But since their relationship had started, Alvaro had begun to tighten the shackles because he was too afraid. He had to learn to loosen them again.

“Go out and have some fun. We’ll go out with you if you’d like.”

“I think I'll just stay in today.”

Silence for a while. Alvaro wasn't sure how to end the conversation.

“Franco,” he finally said.

“Yeah?”

“You're a great listener.”

Franco laughed. “So I've been told.”

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome,” Franco said. “Talk to you soon.”

Then he hung up the phone and Alvaro spent the rest of the day at home, feeling just that little bit lighter, just that little bit more carefree as he slowly allowed the excitement of the Champions League win to trickle back in his veins. As he slowly allowed himself to be happy. As he slowly allowed the irrational anger he had towards Paulo dissipate and as he slowly convinced himself that for once in his life, it was okay to let go.

\------

Paulo received a call from Franco while he was making lunch for himself. A really pathetic lunch, if he had to say, of some cheese and bread.

“You doing okay?” he asked kindly when Paulo took his call.

“I guess,” Paulo said, his voice hoarse so it came out like ‘guess’ instead.

Franco skipped the guessing, fortunately. “What are you doing today?”

“Summer vacation,” Paulo said, voice dripping with bitterness.

Franco paused for a while like he was calculating his next move. Then he asked, “Do you need some company?”

“It’s okay, stay in Madrid with your boyfriend,” Paulo said, and it came out more spiteful than he’d intended. Paulo sighed. “Tell him congratulations.”

“Yeah,” Franco said. He went quiet for a while.

“What are you calling me for, Franco?” Paulo asked, not meaning to be rude but just. Paulo wanted to be alone. He just wanted to be alone and cry and just be thoroughly sorry for himself.

Franco seemed to understand. He _always_ did. “I just,” he said. “Just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“I didn’t believe you when you said Alvaro wouldn’t understand. You know him better than I do and I shouldn’t have pushed you to talk to him or anything like that. I was wrong and I should have believed you. I’m sorry.”

“It’s ‘kay,” Paulo swallowed the lump in his throat. “Not your fault.”

“I’m very proud of you, Dybala.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m sure your mom and your brothers are, too. Look at you. You’ve fucking made it, Paulo Dybala.”

“Not far enough,” Paulo whispered.

“Farther than you’d ever expected yourself to go at twenty-three,” Franco pointed out. “Paulo, try to be proud of yourself.”

“I’m trying.”

Silence for a while.

Then Paulo blurted out the question he’d wanted to know the answer to for the last twelve hours but had been too afraid to ask out loud, “Do you think Alvaro is proud of me?”

“Of course,” Franco said, and there was. There was this hint of pity in his voice. “Of course he is.”

“How do you know that?”

“I know more than you think I know,” Franco said, and then when Paulo had nothing to say to that, continued, “I know you guys fought because he’s jealous that you were lying in bed with me. I know that Alvaro was being a little selfish by expecting you to be happier for him than you are sad for yourself. I know all these things and I know you two can make this right again.”

“You know, part of me doesn’t blame him?” Paulo sobbed. “I mean, us lying together like that – anyone would’ve thought the same. Not just Alvaro. People who don’t know us as well as you and I and Isco do.”

“Yeah,” Franco said quietly.

“And I’m being a hypocrite, too, you know? Kinda? By expecting him to be a little sad for me.”

“It’s natural. He’s your boyfriend just as much as you are his.”

“I love him so much and I'm so proud of him, and I wish he knew that even though I didn't get the trophy, I'm happy he got it instead of anyone else.”

“I'm sure he’ll understand that,” Franco whispered. “Yeah? Give yourself a few days.”

“Thanks, Franco.”

“Of course. Talk to you soon.”

A short silence later Franco hung up the phone.

Paulo sighed and started on his two slices of bread. The previous night left a wrench in his chest and a sour taste in his mouth. He knew it was on him. At least, it was mostly on him. Paulo wished he'd done better.

But he also understood that it was over and there was nothing else he could do. He couldn't go back in time and score a few more goals.

So maybe he’d wallow in his own sadness for a couple of days, and then hopefully, he could talk to Alvaro again and tell Alvaro exactly how proud Paulo was of him.


	4. And Summer's Lease Hath All Too Short A Date

Alvaro had a few days’ break before he had to report for international duty, as did Paulo. Three days, to be exact.

Paulo knew that because – well, he’d die before admitting it, but it was because he was stalking the fuck out of all of Real Madrid and the Spain national team’s social media accounts. If any sort of hacking happened to his phone, Paulo would have a ton of questions to answer.

Alvaro didn’t call even when Paulo started packing for his trip to Melbourne. Paulo was constantly torn between picking up his phone and just dialing Alvaro’s number by memory, or just leaving him be. He didn’t know what Alvaro was thinking. For the first time in his life, after an entire eight years, Paulo couldn’t tell what Alvaro was thinking.

Paulo felt so alone.

His family had flown back to Argentina, having nothing else to do here since Paulo was also leaving, anyway. The house was quiet. Not just because of Alvaro’s absence, because after all Alvaro spent most of his time in Madrid. But just. Just quiet.

Paulo left his half-packed suitcase on the ground, stepping over it and all of his clothes strewn over the floor until he got to his bed, into which he plunged and buried his face. Sometimes life just overwhelmed Paulo with a force that even Paulo at his strongest couldn’t defend against.

He curled up on himself and stuffed his fist in his mouth as he sobbed – which began to be a little stupid after a while since no one else was around. So he flipped over on his stomach, hugged a pillow, and just cried and cried.

He fell asleep after a while, though it couldn’t really be called a nap because Paulo was practically just floating in the middle of consciousness and unconsciousness.

When he woke up again the full afternoon light had subsided and Paulo had the sheets tucked around him, which he didn’t remember doing. There was a soft rustling noise from behind him.

Paulo craned his neck to see what was making the noise.

He saw Alvaro bent over Paulo’s suitcase, his soft hands rolling up the last of Paulo’s shirts and tucking it in the corner of his suitcase. He froze when he felt Paulo staring at him, then glanced up at Paulo like a deer caught in headlights.

Paulo ignored him and turned back, clutching the pillow tightly. He felt. He felt his heart thudding in his anxious chest like a schoolboy seeing his crush, which was _stupid_ because that was _Alvaro_ and Paulo had no more reason to be shy in front of Alvaro. But Paulo just. Paulo hadn’t even thought of what to _say_. He didn’t think he could face Alvaro.

There was some movement behind Paulo, then Alvaro tripped over the suitcase and landed on the bed behind Paulo, causing the mattress to dip. He quickly sat up again and just. Just sat right there staring at Paulo like he was too scared to do anything. Paulo felt a hole burn into his back, a warm hole of Alvaro’s intense gaze.

“Paulo,” Alvaro finally whispered.

Paulo felt his entire body tense up, like Alvaro had exhaled a freezing breath of air with Paulo’s name. He shut his eyes as tears pooled in them, but he was unable to stop them from falling down his cheeks. Soon he was a sobbing mess again, crying into the pillow as Alvaro continued sitting there helplessly.

“Paulo,” Alvaro said again. He leaned over and placed a gentle hand on Paulo’s shoulder, but retrieved it when Paulo recoiled. He didn’t mean to. But he recoiled. “I’m sorry,” Alvaro said, his voice suddenly thick.

Paulo turned his head further into the pillow. His shoulders had begun to shake and he was so embarrassed and helpless and he just wanted to cry and cry and cry until the pain in his chest went away.

Alvaro got on his knees and moved closer to Paulo. He gently ran a finger down Paulo’s cheek. “I’m so proud of you, Paulo Bruno Dybala,” he whispered. “I’m so proud of you and I’m sorry I didn’t say that earlier.”

Paulo whirled around and. And lunged across into Alvaro’s lap, wrapping his arms tightly around Alvaro and almost knocking Alvaro over backwards. He recovered quickly, though, and Paulo felt his warm arms snake back around Paulo, a comfortable, familiar, _safe_ feeling. Alvaro was proud of Paulo. _He was proud of Paulo_ and that was _everything_ Paulo had ever needed.

“I’m sorry, too,” Paulo sobbed. “And I’m so proud of you and I’m so happy that you won the trophy instead of anybody else.”

“Don’t say that,” Alvaro said softly, pressing his lips against Paulo’s neck. “Don’t say that. Don’t.”

“You deserve it.”

“You do, too,” Alvaro said. “But one of us had to lose and I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. You can’t be sorry for winning.”

“I’m sorry that I expected you to be happy for me. I’m sorry I acted so entitled and I’m sorry that I hurt you.”

“It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay, Paulo,” Alvaro sobbed. “It’s not. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Paulo shook his head. He hugged Alvaro more tightly. “I’m sorry if you thought I wasn’t happy for you. I was. I really was, it was just. Just –”

“You were sad for yourself, too, and it overpowered everything else,” Alvaro finished. “I know. I get it. I really, really do. And I’m sorry I pushed you. I should have given you time and space and I should have let you heal, and I’m sorry.”

“I don’t think I will ever heal from this,” Paulo whispered.

“You will,” Alvaro gave him a little shake. “You will, Pau, I know you will.”

“Yeah?”

“You have to stop trying to carry the entire world on your shoulders.”

“What else can I do with it?”

“Share it with me.”

Paulo moved closer so he could wrap his legs around Alvaro’s waist. He just. He just wanted to cling on to Alvaro forever. Alvaro made him feel so happy and so calm and so safe. He never failed to do that. Never failed to let Paulo know, over and over again, that in this lonely world, Paulo was never alone.

“In all the years I’ve known you, there’s never been one single time that you were unable to bounce back from something,” Alvaro continued. “Not once. Never once.”

“What if this is the first time?”

“It won’t be. Paulo Dybala, you are the strongest person I know and I believe in you and I will be here for every step, I promise.”

“I love you,” Paulo whispered, the words leaving his lips like a sigh of relief.

“I love you, too,” Alvaro’s hand started to stroke gentle, warm circles on Paulo’s back. “I love you and I’m so proud of you, I’m so proud of who you are, who you’ve become, and I’m so proud I got a VIP seat in all of it.”

Paulo smiled. He sighed and leaned his cheek on Alvaro’s shoulder. “I just, I got so mad when I saw you yelling and celebrating like you didn't give a shit, and I just kept thinking that just one year ago you were on my team, we were playing together, and that you just – you just forgot all of that –”

“I didn't. I didn't forget.”

“– and I'm such a _hypocrite_ because I expected you to be a little sad for me, and that was a shitty thing to feel, and I'm such a shitty person –”

And then Alvaro just grabbed Paulo’s face and kissed him on the lips, hard, snatching the rest of the words out of them and hiding them somewhere Paulo couldn't find. Paulo’s tummy did a little somersault, then he couldn't help but start to smile into the kiss so Alvaro pulled away, his forehead pressed against Paulo’s.

“I know that this match was a difficult thing for the both of us,” Alvaro whispered. “Not just in terms of football. But outside it, too. And there was no way we could've handled it without it turning ugly like this. Because we weren't prepared. We were too happy about making it to the final and we didn't see what it was going to do to us. And I just want you to know that – that you're going to make it one day, Paulo, you're going to win it and then you'll understand exactly how it feels, and I'll be so fucking proud of you. And I'm sorry that things turned out like this. I love you. I love you more than anything else and you matter more to me than anything else, and I hate that I gave this the chance to drive a wedge between us. I hate that you felt like I wouldn't care and that's why you went to Franco –”

“– about Franco –”

“– let me finish. You went to Franco because he was a neutral – well, as much of a neutral as he could be – and I couldn't understand that. I know what Franco means to you.”

“Different from what you mean to me.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro smiled. “Yeah. And I know that he only meant well for you, that he was only trying to make you feel better. That's all that should have mattered to me. I was too selfish, I was too absorbed in my own win and I neglected you and your feelings and I'm so, so sorry, Paulo.”

“Nothing happened between me and Franco,” Paulo sobbed. “Nothing. Alvaro, I need you to believe me. I’ve always been loyal to you. Always. I know I cheated on Cam and Isa before but –”

“I know,” Alvaro tried to shush him, but to no avail.

“– but I’ve always been loyal to you, Alvaro. Alvi. Maybe it’s difficult to believe me after all I’ve done but –”

“Paulo, please stop.”

“– I’ve loved you since the very first day and nothing has ever changed and I’ve always been loyal, Alvi, my heart has always been loyal, please, you have to believe me.”

“I do,” Alvaro whispered, gently wiping Paulo’s tears with his thumbs. “I do. Yeah. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have thought those things and said those things.”

“Why don’t you trust me?”

“It’s not you I don’t trust.”

“I love you. I’ve always loved you, _only_ you, and that’s never going to change. Doesn’t matter what I did with Franco before. I’ve never had any sort of romantic feelings for him and I never will.”

“It’s just,” Alvaro sighed. “He’s always been able to give you what you need. Always. Even when...when I couldn’t. And I just want to give you everything. Everything you could ever need and want. But sometimes I feel like...like I can’t. And Franco can.”

“But I don’t want it from him. I want you. I want all you can give me, all you’re willing to give me, and nothing more.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro whispered.

“I didn’t go to him because you couldn’t give me what I needed. I went to him because _I_ couldn’t give you what you needed. I couldn’t act like it was all okay and I couldn’t see you without being sad and broody and ruining your celebrations. Which I did, in the end, and I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t,” Alvaro said kindly.

“I know I did, Alvaro, and I’m so sorry.”

Alvaro shook his head firmly. “You didn’t. I said so.”

Paulo laughed. Alvaro was _the dorkiest_ and Paulo loved him more than anything or anyone else, ever. He combed his fingers through Alvaro's hair. It was soft and smooth and ungelled and Paulo’s favourite feeling in the entire world.

“I’m just so scared that you’ll run away from me,” Alvaro whispered when Paulo didn’t say a word. “Because I’ve hurt you so many times that one day you’ll just decide that you’ve had enough, and you’ll run away, and I get so _fucking scared_ , Pau, but it’s not on you and you don’t deserve to be treated the way I treated you, and I’m so sorry. I’m sorry.”

“I will never run away from you, Alvaro,” Paulo sobbed. “Never. Even if you were on fire. Even if touching you would kill me instantly. I will always, _always_ run towards you.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro mumbled, wrapping his arms tightly around Paulo again and pushing his face into Paulo’s neck. “Hmm? Yeah?”

“I’m sorry I got so mad. I just. I reacted and I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shout at you and make you think I was running away.”

Alvaro shook his head. “I know what I said, I remember it, and I was wrong.”

Paulo sighed. He gently nuzzled Alvaro’s ear with his nose. “I don’t remember us apologising to each other so often.”

Alvaro’s lips turned upwards against Paulo’s skin. “We’re getting older and more naggy.”

Paulo couldn’t help but smile, too, in response. Alvaro was. Alvaro was as simple as a child. He always thought of the silliest but simplest explanation for everything. And Paulo loved it. He loved how Alvaro had everything in the world but remained – Paulo wouldn’t say humble, because Alvaro was far from the humblest person Paulo knew, but he remained simple and innocent and so fucking _clueless._

“So what are you doing here?” Paulo asked.

“Must there ever be a reason for me to want to see my boyfriend?” Alvaro asked. “I mean...I guess this tiny break was good. It was good that we were apart after the match. But that’s enough. I missed you.”

“Me, too,” Paulo smiled. He touched first a fingertip, then his lips, to Alvaro’s nose. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Alvaro just went all in and kissed Paulo on the lips. “Please try not to be sad anymore.”

“I’ll get there again, yeah?” Paulo asked, trying not to sound too desperate. “I’ll get to another final and my dad will be so proud of me.”

Alvaro paused for a moment, fingers wandering down Paulo’s jawline, and then up again to Paulo’s cheeks, where they rested. “He already is the proudest father in the world.”

“Yeah?” Paulo whispered. Alvaro caught Paulo’s tears with his thumbs.

“And I am the proudest boyfriend.”

Paulo shook his head. “I think Franco beats you in that.”

“Fuck Franco.”

“I thought you didn’t want me to do that,” Paulo pointed out.

Alvaro narrowed his eyes and Paulo burst into laughter, which made Alvaro even madder. He started to pout, and then leapt on Paulo and pushed him backwards, climbing on him and tickling him. Which, well. Only made Paulo laugh even more.

“You think you’re so clever, huh?” Alvaro asked between all of Paulo’s giggles. “Hmm? You’re so clever.”

“Uh huh,” Paulo said, muffled from Alvaro’s hands going all over his face, switching from tickling to slapping. Gently.

Alvaro gave him a tight slap on the nose. “You think you’re a smartass.”

“‘Cause I am. Smart.”

“And an ass.”

Paulo beamed. “You know what? You’re wrong. You’re all wrong. You’re not the proudest boyfriend, and neither is Franco. _I_ am. I am the proudest boyfriend.”

Alvaro smiled down at him before clambering off and lying down with a loud thud, bouncing off the mattress. “You want a trophy for that?” he asked.

“Sure.”

“Okay, that's a bad joke. It's too soon to make a joke like that. Sorry.”

Paulo laughed. Sure, the mention of the Champions League felt like a dagger to his heart, but. “It's okay, don't have to walk on eggshells.”

“When are you leaving for Australia?” Alvaro asked.

“Day after tomorrow.”

“You gonna bring Alvaroo along?”

Paulo burst into laughter. Of course Alvaro remembered the little kangaroo Paulo had gotten on his last trip to Australia with Juventus. Because it was named after him. “I don't even know where he is,” Paulo said.

“He's right there,” Alvaro said, getting out of bed and going to the closet to open it. The tiny kangaroo sat underneath Paulo’s clothes. Paulo’s Champions League medal hung from the hook behind the door.

Alvaro took a double take upon seeing it, and Paulo observed him through the mirror on the other door. He stared at it for a while, and then slowly reached over and took Alvaroo.

“Bring the – bring the medal, too,” Paulo called, his voice breaking in the middle of the sentence.

Alvaro hesitantly unhooked it and brought it over to Paulo. He crawled back next to Paulo and paused for a while to decide whether to pass Paulo the toy or the medal, and then decided on the toy.

Paulo took it from him and patted the bed so Alvaro would lie down. Paulo took the medal from him. The metal was chilling against his fingertips.

“I guess this is quite pretty,” Paulo whispered.

“Yeah,” Alvaro smiled encouragingly. “Prettier than me?”

Paulo laughed and. And Alvaro looked so fucking _relieved_ , which in turn just made Paulo so happy he forgot that he was holding in his own hands the very reason he was sad in the first place. “You’re prettier,” he said. “You will always matter more to me than any of this.”

“Don’t say that,” Alvaro said softly. “I know how much this means to you.”

Paulo swallowed the lump in his throat. Maybe he just. He just needed to try and be brave. “Did you – did you bring yours?”

Alvaro nodded slowly, like he was embarrassed to say that he was bringing his medal wherever he went, but also a little bit touched that Paulo knew. Paulo gave him a smile and gestured for him to bring it over. After a couple more seconds of internal debating, Alvaro got up and disappeared outside.

He reappeared a while later clutching his medal with the strap curled a few rounds around his wrist. Paulo took it from him. It was warm, warm from Alvaro’s grasp. Paulo held it next to the one he had.

Alvaro suddenly reached over and took it away again, which was when Paulo realised he’d been crying. Alvaro wrapped him up tightly, and Paulo clutched a fistful of the back of Alvaro’s shirt. “I'm sorry,” Paulo whispered.

“No, hey,” Alvaro said. “It's alright.”

“I'm so fucking proud of you, Alvaro Morata.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro was smiling as he kissed Paulo’s temple. “I know. I'm so proud of you, too.”

“You're my favourite person in the entire world.”

“You're mine, too.”

A long silence. Alvaro just held Paulo, warm and safe and comfortable, until Paulo stopped shaking.

“Alvi,” Paulo whispered.

“Hmm?”

“You remember you said we didn't get to take a photo with the trophy, and – and I reacted and got super mad?”

“Yeah?”

“Let's take a photo now,” Paulo said. “With – with the medals.”

“We don't have to.”

“I want to.”

“Yeah?”

“Promise.”

Alvaro took Paulo’s medal from him and hung it over his neck. He turned it so the textured side was facing the front, then gave it a pat.

They took some photos with Alvaro’s long arm holding the phone, his thumb just holding on to the button and taking like, twenty photos. Then they looked through all of them and the same photo caught their eye: a photo of the both of them with their medals hung around their neck, Alvaro’s arm draped over Paulo’s shoulders, and Paulo looking up at Alvaro with a big proud smile and the puppiest eyes Alvaro claimed he had ever seen. Alvaro had his head turned to Paulo, too, and was gazing down at him, his eyelashes fanning his pink cheeks. Alvaroo lay tipped over on Alvaro’s thigh.

A few minutes of comfortable silence passed as they sat side by side trying to think of captions for their Instagram posts. Well, at least Paulo was. He posted it with the simple caption, _In my life, I have won more than I have lost._

Then he turned to his side and he saw Alvaro just lying there watching him.

“What?” Paulo asked, elbowing him softly in the face. “Creep.”

Alvaro took the little Alvaroo toy in his hands. “Who do you prefer?” he asked Paulo. “Alvaro or Alvaroo?”

Paulo laughed. He reached for the kangaroo. “This one.”

“Really?” Alvaro asked sadly.

Paulo booped him on the nose. “No, you’re my favourite. I already told you. Like, five minutes ago.”

Alvaro smiled. He took Paulo’s phone and put it aside, then took Paulo’s medal and his own and put them aside, too. He pulled on Paulo’s legs until Paulo was lying flat on his back, then he climbed over Paulo and straddled Paulo’s waist.

“Alvi,” Paulo whispered.

Alvaro cocked his head to the side. The loving look in his eyes didn’t go away. “You wanna?” he asked in the softest voice.

Paulo reached up for Alvaro’s hair and ran his fingers through it a couple times before tugging it so Alvaro was bending over and Paulo could kiss him. Alvaro had become so – so _confident_ , sexually, and Paulo wasn’t sure if he’d be right to say he was _proud_ of it, but. But Paulo was really, really happy that he got to watch Alvaro grow in every way possible.

“Yeah,” Paulo whispered.

They took off all of each other’s clothes, fingers gentle and quick and knowing exactly where to go, the contours of each other’s bodies dripping with familiarity. They settled into a comfortable rhythm, Alvaro on top, fingers curled around Paulo’s wrists to hold them down on either side of his head. It wasn’t anything fancy, just the both of them grinding and humping each other, but. But Alvaro didn’t take his eyes off Paulo. He trapped Paulo’s gaze in his warm brown one, and he held it all the way through, with every thrust and every gasp and every chill that shot up Paulo’s spine.

Paulo felt all the tension between them dissolve, as always, like it was the sweat pouring out their pores. Like it was the breathless whispers of ‘I love you’ that managed to escape their lips. Like it was each curl of Paulo’s fingers as he futilely clawed at the air above him, struggling to escape Alvaro’s grasp although the both of them knew very well he didn’t want to.

Alvaro’s gaze finally broke away when he was the first to reach orgasm, as did his grasp on Paulo’s wrists. He wrapped his arms around Paulo’s head instead, and pushed his face into Paulo’s neck, his hips stuttering as Paulo moved to jerk the both of them off. His teeth clamped down around a little piece of meat on Paulo’s shoulder, making Paulo cry out and Alvaro give a little orgasmic whimper.

Paulo keened upwards, eager to feel what Alvaro was feeling. Alvaro gave a big grin, then ran his teeth along Paulo’s jaw until his lips met Paulo’s. He sucked on Paulo’s lower lip for a while, then curled his fingers around Paulo’s dick and teased it exactly the way Paulo liked. He stopped, though, after Paulo gave this very desperate whine, and started properly jerking Paulo off.

Paulo came with his arms wrapped tightly around Alvaro, willing Alvaro not to let him go – to never let him go. He came with his eyes wide open, his lips parted in a silent scream, his hips desperately thrusting upwards to get that final bit of friction. He came with a long, violent shudder, causing Alvaro to give the cutest giggle and then just flop over on Paulo, panting.

Paulo just sprawled there under him, just. Just fascinated by the fact that after so many years, he still felt this way. That _this_ still felt this way. It still felt like the very first time; every single time felt like the very first time. The ecstasy, the thrill, the pleasure at the very end – it had never changed one bit with Alvaro. And Paulo. Paulo was so fucking _in love_ he couldn’t help but laugh helplessly at himself.

“What?” Alvaro murmured.

“Nothing, just,” Paulo smiled. “I love you so much.”

Alvaro lifted his head lazily and gave Paulo a few sloppy kisses all over his face, then made out with him languidly for a while. Then he said, “I love you, too.”

Paulo played with Alvaro’s hair as Alvaro slipped into his post-coital nap, suffocating under Alvaro’s weight yet knowing there was nowhere else he would rather be. Alvaro smelled like. Like plane and sweat and sex, but at the same time he smelled as freshly-showered as always. It was Paulo’s favourite scent.

“Pau,” Alvaro whispered as Paulo tried to gently move him onto his own pillow.

“Did I wake you?” Paulo whispered. “Sorry.”

Alvaro shook his head. “Pau, I just wanna ask you.”

“Yeah?”

“We okay?”

“Yeah,” Paulo smiled, just. Just so happy and relieved. It grew bigger when Alvaro opened his eyes a little, like he just needed to _see_ Paulo say it. “Always.”

Alvaro shut his eyes again and quickly fell into a peaceful sleep. Paulo followed soon after, contented in Alvaro’s embrace.

When Paulo woke up again it was evening and the room was dim. There was some clanging in the kitchen and the vague smell of garlic, so Alvaro was probably cooking dinner.

There was a notification on Paulo’s phone from Instagram: _alvaromorata tagged you in a photo._

It was that same photo Paulo had posted earlier of them and their medals. Alvaro had applied the greyscale filter so both their medals, the gold and the silver, looked indistinguishable.

The caption read just one word.

_Always._

\------

Franco spent the international break following his boyfriend around.

Okay, so it was just two matches in two different places. But Franco followed Isco everywhere he got the chance to, and he ended up in Macedonia – where he’d never been before, by the way – all by himself, at the airport waiting for his flight back to Madrid where Isco and his team were taking a separate flight to. Franco’s flight had been a scheduled a little earlier than the Spanish team’s chartered plane, but it was delayed, so Franco saw Isco off at the gate.

“I’ll wait for you at the airport,” Isco said as he lingered behind his teammates, who were stuck in a bottleneck at the entrance.

“It’ll be a couple hours,” Franco said. “Go home and get some rest.”

“A couple hours is nothing,” was Isco’s reply. “I’ll plan our super awesome summer vacation.”

Then he proceeded to scurry to the front of the queue, clear the bag check ahead of his scowling teammates, and escape into the waiting room, from which he waved cheekily at Franco.

Franco reached into his bag and found his post-it pad and a pen. He scribbled on it, _didn’t say I wanna go on vacation with you,_ and pressed it on the glass window so Isco could see it.

Isco grinned when he read it. “You do,” he yelled. Really, really loudly. He was so fucking embarrassing to be around.

Franco gestured for Isco to come closer, which Isco did obediently. Franco removed the top post-it and placed it in his pocket. He drew a big heart on the next one, as big as he could go while fitting into the yellow square. Then he showed it to Isco.

Isco started laughing; it was soft giggling at first, inaudible through the glass partition, but then it increased in volume until Isco was just laughing like a crazy dude, cheeks turning red as he clutched his stomach.

“Love you,” he mouthed, then made a really dumb kissy face at Franco. He looked like he was actually going to kiss the glass, which was gross as fuck, so Franco gave the glass a slap and ran away.

He spent most of the five-hour flight staring out the window and smiling because Isco wouldn’t get the fuck out of his mind. He spent the last hour and a half sleeping, socked feet curled up on the seat, wishing Isco was there to cuddle with him.

When he landed in Madrid, the first person he saw upon clearing arrivals and collecting his bag was Isco, sitting on a bench right in front of the doorway, his feet propped up on his luggage, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world. He was flipping through a travel magazine. The edges were dog-eared, which was both a surprise and _not_ a surprise because obviously Isco had only had that magazine for at most three hours, but then again – it was _Isco_.

He sprung up on his feet when Franco approached, toppling his luggage so it made a huge clang against the floor and a few people turned to look. Franco resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Isco was. He was so _loud_.

“I know where we can go for summer,” Isco said as Franco wrapped him in a hug.

“Yeah? Where?”

“First we’re going to Málaga,” Isco said, excitedly bounding along next to Franco as Franco picked up both their bags and started walking towards the taxi stand. “Then we’re going to Córdoba, then –”

“Córdoba as in the city between Madrid and Seville?” Franco asked.

“No, Córdoba as in Argentina,” Isco said matter-of-factly. “Then we’ll go to Miami, then we’ll go to New York.”

“How did you even come up with these?”

“First the beach, then the city.”

“Okay, but why all the way in the US?”

“‘Cause we’d be in Argentina, and it’s closer. You promised me you’d take me to Argentina.”

Franco smiled. He was so touched that Isco was willing to make the trip to visit Franco’s family, just like Franco did every summer by himself. “Yeah, okay.”

“And we did the west side last time, so now we can do the east.”

“Do we have time for everything?”

“We could leave for Málaga like, right now.”

“Right now?” Franco repeated. “Can I take a shower first?”

“You’re just going to be dirty again when you sit on the plane.”

“My clothes are all dirty.”

“You can do your laundry at my parents’ house.”

“That’s so weird.”

“It’s not. It’s my house, too.”

Franco sighed and let Isco drag him out of the taxi queue. They went over to the domestic terminal and Isco spent like, fifteen minutes talking sweetly to the girl at the counter so she’d give them two tickets on the next flight to Málaga, which left in less than an hour. Franco stood next to him, gaze flitting in bewilderment between the both of them.

They eventually got their tickets, to Franco’s relief. They cleared departures and Isco followed Franco to the restroom to wash his face. He stood next to the sink watching Franco in the mirror as Franco wiped his face dry.

“What?” Franco asked.

Isco shook his head and smiled. He turned to Franco, paused for a second, then ran straight towards Franco and crashed into Franco’s chest.

“I love you,” he whispered.

Franco smiled. He kissed the top of Isco’s head, through his thick curls. “I love you too, baby.”

“Remember when we first met in Turin, we had sex in an airport restroom?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Wanna do that again?”

Franco laughed. It was funny how Isco went to all that trouble with all the sweet nostalgic words just to ask for sex. “Rain check? I'm tired and dirty and we’ll miss our flight.”

Isco nodded shyly. “‘Kay.”

“C’mon, let’s go,” Franco said, letting go of Isco and taking his hand instead. They each dragged their own bag to the gate and made it on the plane far from last.

Strangely, Franco didn't feel nervous meeting Isco’s family anymore. Part of it was due to him hanging around them for extended periods of time whenever they watched Isco’s matches, but mostly it was because Franco was becoming so much more comfortable around Isco’s family and friends. It wasn't something he noticed, per se, but. He didn't get the shaky hands and sweaty palms anymore. The fact that he was just randomly flying to Málaga right then was testament enough.

Franco spent the hour-and-a-half-long flight sleeping, completely peaceful now that Isco was tucked under his arm.

\------

Isco hadn't told his parents he was heading to Málaga, which explained their surprise upon seeing Isco and France arrive at their door.

After all their hugs and greetings Franco finally saw Messi the dog lying across the room, a huge brown splat under the window.

Isco was watching Franco when Franco noticed Messi. It took him all he could not to burst into laughter. Franco turned to Isco and grabbed his arm tightly.

“He's huge,” Franco whispered, like if he spoke too loudly Messi would attack them or something.

“I've told you he's huge,” Isco said in his normal voice.

“But –” Franco stammered. “That's – that's not just huge. He's _ginormous._ ”

And then Isco couldn't hold his laughter in any longer. He keeled over with giggles as Franco stood there glaring at him, wondering what the fuck was going on.

“Are you scared of him?” he eventually managed to choke. “You're scared of big dogs?”

“I am _not,_ ” Franco retorted. “He’s just. Bigger than I imagined.”

“Don’t be scared of him,” Isco said. He squatted and clapped at Messi, who lumbered to his feet and walked slowly towards Isco. “Good boy,” he said as Messi walked into his arms, knocking him over backwards so he fell on his butt. “You missed me? Hmm?”

But Messi just gave him a few wet sniffs and then backed away to peer curiously at Isco. He sat down on his big butt and tilted his head to the side curiously.

“What?” Isco asked.

Messi didn’t respond, of course. He just stood there with his head tilted, looking confused. Franco hovered around the both of them, too afraid to get nearer.

Antonio appeared around the corner with Junior sitting in his arms, craning over with grabby hands towards Isco and screeching at the top of his lungs. Isco turned to him like he would have the answer. He was quite sure he looked to Antonio like how Messi looked to him right then – sad and confused and a little annoyed.

“It’s ‘cause your scent changed,” Antonio said, deadpan. He pointed at Franco. “You hung out with him too much. Now you smell like him. You smell different and Messi doesn’t recognise you. Happened with this little imp, too. Changed him into some new clothes and it was fine.”

Junior gave another screech of approval.

“But he recognises my face,” Isco said, reaching over and holding Messi’s saggy cheeks. “Don’t you?”

“Your face and scent are different now.”

Isco reached for his bag and dug out one of his dirty t-shirts. He put it across his chest and gestured to Messi. “C’mon, it’s me. It’s still me.”

And just then Bubu came bounding across the corner, slipping and skidding on the ground as he turned, and leapt straight into Isco’s arms to lick Isco’s face. Isco got distracted by him for a while, but not enough to not notice Messi staring over and slowly realising that there was nothing wrong with Isco’s new scent. He got on his feet again and slumped over on Isco’s lap, looking up at Isco like he just wanted some pets. Isco gladly gave him some.

“God, it’s like a zoo in here,” Franco remarked.

“Get used to it,” Isco said under all the tongues and paws.

“Maybe let Messi play with Franco for a while,” Antonio suggested. He left Junior and went away.

Junior ran straight to Franco, partly because Isco was buried under a pile of yellow fur. He gave Franco a big hug and said, “Vazquez I miss you very many!”

“Yeah?” Franco smiled. “Papa too?”

“Papa too. Very many.”

“Go give papa a hug,” Franco said, gently judging Junior towards Isco. He sat down on the ground and watched Junior burrow his way between the dogs and right up to Isco, who smiled.

“Papa I miss you,” Junior said.

“Yeah?” Isco smiled. Junior was sticky and sweaty but he smelled just like he always did. It warmed Isco’s heart. Isco would literally do _anything_ in this world for Junior. “I missed you, too.”

Junior started babbling to him about random things, all of which Isco couldn't bear not to listen. He cradled Junior in his arms and just looked at his gigantic brown eyes and listened to his sharp voice, and he was immediately transported to that realm of comfort once again, surrounded by all his favourite people and dogs. He felt the familiarity, the tranquility, seep into his skin.

When Junior finally took a break from talking, Isco turned to see what Franco was doing. He was pleasantly surprised when he saw Franco enjoying himself with Messi, trying to get Messi to offer his paw so Franco could shake it. Bubu sat obediently in Franco’s lap, sprawling out so his stomach was exposed for Franco to pet when he got the chance. Messi suddenly jumped up to hug Franco, causing Franco to lose balance and fall backwards on his back, hugging Messi and laughing adoringly.

“He likes me,” Franco said when he saw Isco watching.

“He does,” Isco smiled. He couldn’t imagine anyone not liking Franco. Not even a dog. “C’mon, I’ll show you around.”

Franco wiggled out from under Messi, put Bubu down, and got up. Bubu followed by his feet as he walked towards Isco, but Messi stayed put.

“How do you get him to come?” Franco asked.

“Same as how you’d get any other man to come,” Isco said.

“What the fu –” was all Franco managed to say before Isco slapped a hand over his mouth. He swatted Isco’s hand aside. “That’s disgusting! Alarcon!”

Isco burst into laughter. After all this time, seeing Franco flustered was still one of the highlights of Isco’s life. “You let him sniff your hand and you tell him ‘follow.’ Then he’ll go everywhere you go until you tell him to stay.”

“Follow?” Franco repeated. He went to Messi again and squatted in front of him. He held a palm to Messi’s nose and Messi sniffed it curiously. “Follow,” Franco repeated.

Then he got up and Messi followed obediently behind his right foot as Bubu did behind his left, and Junior reached up for his hand and grabbed his fingers tightly, and Franco looked so _fucking proud_ and Isco couldn’t help but laugh again. “You’re so cute,” he told Franco.

Franco gave him a grimace. “Me? Cute?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Have you _seen_ yourself?” Franco wrapped his free arm over Isco and squeezed Isco’s head. “You’re the _cutest_.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm. Now take me around.”

Isco brought him to the living room, still tucked under his arm. His parents were sitting there with Antonio, watching TV. It was much bigger than Isco’s tiny house in Madrid, and it led out to the big patio and backyard, which had a pool and a little playground for Junior and the dogs. The kitchen was big and traditional, too. Franco seemed to like it. He wandered around it for a while, running his fingers over the granite countertops and wooden cabinets, admiring the floral patterns on the tiled walls, and standing at the back window looking out at the backyard.

“Wanna see the rest?” Isco asked softly, afraid to disturb Franco from his little daydream.

Franco nodded and lifted Junior in his arms. Isco took his free hand and led him up the stairs, Messi and Bubu following suit. He showed Franco his parents’ room, Antonio’s room, and Junior’s room. Then he climbed the last flight of stairs to his own room, at the very top of the house.

The room smelled like Isco’s childhood and early footballing years, before he moved to Madrid and became a city boy. The room took the shape of the roof, slanting down on both sides. Light filtered in from the skylight on one slanting side. Isco’s bed was under the part where both angled sides met, the part with the most headroom so he wouldn’t hit his head when he got up in the morning. Every wall was painted white except for the one behind the bed, which was a wine red. There was a little mat and some toys where Junior played sometimes. Isco’s old medals hung from a clothesline stretching along one side of the room, and his trophies and photographs decorated a table parallel to it, along the wall. On one side of his closet sat a guitar; on the other side were jerseys he’d exchanged, hanging from a clothes rack. A Spain flag hung above the headboard of his bed, with fairy lights dangling across the front of it.

Franco was smiling as he took it all in. Bubu and Messi sat down by his feet and Junior was sitting quietly in his arms, and suddenly. Suddenly everything was just so peaceful. Isco could almost hear his heart thumping in his chest, he could almost hear the whooshing of wind as everything settled because he’d finally brought Franco to his childhood room, finally got to watch Franco see it for the first time. He watched Franco do a little semicircle with his feet, taking in all of the room slowly.

Then he turned to Isco and asked, “So this is the room you’re so hell bent on showing me yourself?”

Isco nodded and smiled.

And Franco just. Franco put Junior down on the ground and suddenly wrapped Isco tightly in his arms, squeezing so hard Isco felt like a cloth being wrung out. He gave a soft giggle, which turned into a little giggle-sob, into Isco’s shoulder.

“What is it?” Isco whispered.

Franco shook his head, then sighed happily. He pulled away from the hug and held Isco by his shoulders.

“It looks exactly like mine,” Franco said softly, lifting a hand to catch his own tear before it fell from his eye. He pointed at the one coloured wall. “Even that wall. Mine’s blue.”

“Yeah?” Isco grinned. “You’ve got an attic room, too?”

Franco nodded and smiled. He bent over a little and pressed his head on Isco’s, his wrists hanging off the back of Isco’s shoulders. He moved so his nose gently bumped against Isco’s. “I think we’re soulmates,” he whispered.

Isco laughed, although his heart was pounding so hard by then that he was unsure if it actually came out as a laugh or if he just gave a random gurgle. He wasn’t sure if Franco had ever thought about the concept of soulmates, but Franco sure as hell had never spoken about it. He wasn’t really one for romantic words, unless prompted. He had always been more of an actions sort of guy. Which just. Just made Isco go all melty inside.

He closed the gap and kissed Franco on the lips, smiling when he found them upturned. “I love you,” he breathed.

“I love you so much, Isco Alarcon.”

“You wanna lie down?” Isco asked. When Franco shook his head, Isco ran his thumbs under Franco’s eyes. “You’re tired. You have eyebags.”

“I’m old and my skin is sagging,” Franco said.

“It’s not,” Isco said. “And you’re not old.”

“Funny, you used to call me old all the time.”

“I’m trying to be nice right now.”

Franco laughed. He gestured at Junior, who had wandered over to his toys but who got up obediently and trotted back to Franco. Then he took Isco’s hand and started walking downstairs with the two dogs in tow again. “Maybe I can cook dinner,” Franco said. “What do you wanna eat?”

“Pas–”

“Besides pasta.”

Isco pouted. “Fish, then, since you like fish.”

“Okay, let’s go tell your parents I’m cooking pasta and fish.”

They went to the living room and Isco announced that Franco was ‘going to cook a big feast for everyone,’ which earned him a glare from Franco and laughter from the rest of his family.

They deposited Junior and the dogs with Isco’s family, then Franco returned to the kitchen and got out everything he needed from the cabinets and the fridge. Isco followed him around, not really helping with anything except asking Franco what he could help with, which actually didn't help. Franco told him to just stand aside because he didn't like being followed around by a little puppy, and Isco pointed out he had no qualms about Bubu following him everywhere, which shut Franco up.

Isco hopped on the counter and just sat there watching Franco do whatever. Franco was mostly silent, making his way around slowly and gracefully, manoeuvring his way around Isco when he needed to. Isco occasionally grabbed at him when he passed to kiss him, but it'd turn into a languid makeout session and once Franco’s butter burned with a foul smell which made him freak out and Isco laugh his fucking head off.

After all the delays dinner was finally ready past seven. There was a big bowl of spinach pasta with a mild creamy tomato base and a lot of Parmesan cheese. Next to it sat a plate with six slices of fish grilled in a whole lot of garlic and butter. And next to that was a bowl of salad with chicken strips and hard boiled eggs.

“I'm sorry I couldn't bring anything from Italy or Argentina,” Franco said softly after Isco’s family had finished cooing over the food. “It was – it was kinda last minute.”

“It’s alright,” mom said kindly. “Everything looks delicious.”

Isco gave Franco’s hand a squeeze because he seemed to have become a little panicky, like he’d just realised he was now in Isco’s _hometown_ with Isco’s _parents_ and he hadn’t even brought a gift. It didn’t matter to Isco. It never mattered. And Isco knew that as long as it didn’t matter to him, it wouldn’t matter to his family, either.

Everyone tucked into dinner but Franco didn’t. He just sat there watching everyone nervously, worried they wouldn’t like the food. He seemed so calm and composed normally in front of everyone that this would’ve been a confusing sight – but not to Isco. He knew the things Franco feared. He knew that Franco cared too much about things, he cared so much to an extent where he had to make sure personally that everything was going okay. And he would _give his all_ to make sure it was okay. Isco knew that no matter how many times anyone told him it was all okay, Franco was never going to be convinced until he was sure he was in control.

Franco feared attention. He feared losing control. And he feared that he couldn’t give this relationship enough, that he didn’t know enough about how he could contribute to it, the feelings he could allow himself to feel. He feared that it would crumble in front of his eyes. And Isco understood all of that. All of it. He understood how even the littlest, seemingly meaningless things would matter to Franco.

So he didn’t eat, either, just sat holding Franco’s hand until Franco was convinced enough to start eating. Then he let go of Franco’s hand so Franco could finally have some peace.

Dinner was a huge success, much to Franco’s – and Isco’s – relief. They all gathered around in the living room afterwards, after Isco managed to convince Franco that the dishes could be washed later. Franco didn’t even make a big fuss about having not showered or not having clean clothes. He probably just wanted to be a good boy for Isco’s parents. The thought of it made Isco smile.

Isco watched Franco have a little chat with his parents for a while. He answered their questions earnestly and politely, like he hadn't already known them for six months. He was much less courteous to Antonio, although he still stayed within the limits of politeness. But it was all in good fun. Antonio, like Isco, seemed to know exactly which parts of Franco to poke at to get a reaction.

Franco eventually moved off the couch and to Junior and the dogs’ little play corner. He spaced out on Isco and his family again as he started to play with Junior while Bubu skittered around him and Messi frolicked next to them. And Isco’s parents just watched adoringly. Isco wasn't sure what he was happier looking at, his parents’ loving faces or Franco having the time of his life.

“It's really nice you brought him here,” Isco’s dad said after some silence.

Isco smiled. “He's happy to be here, I think.”

“He’ll go everywhere Isco goes,” Antonio remarked.

Isco’s mom smiled. “That's a nice thing to have.”

They talked and watched TV for a while and Isco didn't remember his old home being so particularly warm without Franco.

But soon it got late and everyone started to prepare for bed, so Isco went over to Franco’s little party and asked him, “Shower? I'm going to shower.”

“A minute,” Franco said distractedly. He had a handful of treats and was using his free hand to teach Messi how to hold his paw out for a handshake. “He's about to master it.”

Isco laughed. “Okay,” he said. “I'll shower first.”

“‘Kay.”

So Isco went ahead and showered, but when he came back outside Franco was fast asleep.

He was lying on his side, cheek on Messi’s warm body, treats in his hand long depleted. Bubu was in his arms along with Junior, tucked snugly to sleep.

Isco smiled. He didn't forget to snap a picture with his phone before his mom appeared beside him.

“Sleepy boy, isn't he?” she asked. “He fell asleep the last time we met him at your place, too. He's not bored of us, is he?”

“He's just tired from all the traveling,” Isco said, knowing his mom was only joking. “He followed me to Macedonia.”

“Take care of him,” mom said softly. “Don't let him go again.”

Then she gave him a kiss on the head and left for bed. Isco turned back to the peaceful view.

“I would never,” he whispered to no one.

He went over and gently lifted Junior out of Franco’s arms. No one stirred, not even Junior, who just plastered his face on Isco’s shoulder and continued sleeping. Isco couldn't bathe him like that, so he wiped him down with a warm towel and tucked him into bed. Then he returned to Franco. This one he couldn't wipe down with a warm towel, so it broke his heart when he had to shake Franco awake.

“Let's go to bed,” he whispered when Franco stirred and just lay there, blinking himself awake.

“I need a shower,” he finally said. Messi followed him when he got up, now obviously – and ironically, given how he was confused by it in the beginning – more attracted to Franco's scent than Isco's. Franco told him to stay, and he did, settling down in the middle of the hallway.

Isco lay in bed waiting for Franco. It didn't take too long, thankfully. Franco crawled in next to him not more than ten minutes later, smelling like mint eucalyptus. The fairy lights cast a gentle orangey glow on his face as he smiled.

“You feeling okay?” Isco asked. “Tired?”

“A little bit,” Franco said.

“Sorry I dragged you all the way here.”

“No,” Franco’s smile grew. “I'm really happy you did. Really.”

“But you're so tired,” Isco said softly, running his fingers along Franco’s dark eye rings. “Are you feeling okay? Is everything okay?”

“It is. I promise.”

He sounded like he wanted to continue, so Isco gave him some time. Isco would gladly wait a whole century if that was how long Franco needed to find the words.

“It's just,” he eventually said. “Sometimes...sometimes, when you're not in bed with me, I can't sleep.”

“You can text me. Or call me.”

Franco shook his head. “You'd be sleeping.”

“Doesn't matter.”

“It's just sometimes. Not a big deal.”

But Isco knew very well Franco was just using ‘sometimes’ as a very futile cover for how often it happened. And Isco just. Isco wanted to be around Franco 24/7. He wanted to see Franco’s face every night before he fell asleep in Franco’s arms, safe and sound. And it tore Isco apart that he couldn't do that. It tore Isco apart that he never seemed to be able to find the words or actions to let Franco know how much he meant to Isco. It tore Isco apart and it scared him to death.

“What's wrong?” Franco whispered.

“Nothing,” Isco whispered back, but much to his fucking _horror,_ tears suddenly started falling out of his eyes, without warning.

“Hey,” Franco said gently, tenderly wrapping Isco up in his arms and squeezing tightly. Protectively. “It's not a big deal. I promise. It's not a big deal and it's not your fault.”

“Franco, I'm so scared.”

“Why?” Franco asked. “What are you scared of?”

“I don't know how to tell you how much I love you,” Isco sobbed. “And I'm scared, I'm so scared that I'll never be able to. That you'll never know.”

“I do know,” Franco whispered. “Yeah. And I love you too, so much.”

“You don't know,” Isco said. “You don't. I love you so much more than everything I have ever said or done to try and show you that. So much more. And I don't know how to let you know that. It overwhelms me every time I look at you, Franco, you are so perfect and my heart aches for you every second, it aches in the best way I have ever felt. I wish you could understand that. I wish you could feel it. I love you. I love you, I've said it so much but it's never enough.”

Franco went quiet for a while and Isco got a little worried that he was mad, even though a tiny rational part of him knew there was no reason for Franco to be mad.

“I do,” he finally said in a whisper. “I understand it.”

“How?”

“‘Cause I feel it too,” Franco continued whispering, forming gusts of air on Isco’s forehead. “The ache. The ache of knowing that you'll never understand how much I love you because words or actions could _never_ possibly do it justice. But I try, I continue trying every single day. I remember at the start I was so adamant that we were just fuck buddies and that I would never _ever_ fall for you. But now – now I am the most helpless around you, I am the weakest and I fell so hard and so fast I didn't even notice it coming. And I love every bit of it, I do. I wouldn't give it up for anything. I want you to know, too, that this is how much this all means to me. You never may, and that scares me. To death. But I love you, Isco, I love you forever, I love you _so fucking much_ and part of me hopes that maybe if I say it for the rest of my life, you'll know exactly how much.”

“Yeah?” Isco smiled, just. Just so relieved again that Franco not only understood, but Franco _was in it with him_. “Do you ever get tired of me telling you I love you?”

“I could never,” Franco said, giving Isco’s nose a poke. “You're so silly. Don't be silly. I thought after hanging around me for so long you'd become less silly.”

Isco smiled. He kissed Franco softly on the lips. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Franco whispered.

“Thank you for following me everywhere.”

“I'm sorry I fell asleep when your parents were around again.”

“Mom called you a sleepy boy. She asked me if you were bored of them.”

“I'm not,” Franco said, horrified. “Did you tell her I'm not? I'm not bored.”

Isco burst into laughter. “Yeah, told her that. Don't worry. They love you.”

Franco looked sceptical for a while before it dissolved away to the familiar fondness he always looked at Isco with. “I can't wait to spend all fucking summer with you.”

“Yeah?” Isco grinned. “Hey, aren't you an asshole about planning? Let's plan our vacation.”

“I'm not an asshole about planning,” Franco retorted, even though he 100% was. He didn't protest when Isco got up to retrieve his laptop, which just served to further prove Isco’s point.

“C’mon, plan our vacation,” Isco urged.

So Franco did. He completely skipped Córdoba, obviously, but he googled Miami and found a whole list of hotels and places to visit. Isco lay on his stomach with him under the fairy lights, watching the white rectangle and the prospect of the best summer of their lives light up Franco’s face.

“Hey, you think,” Franco suddenly said as Isco was watching him meticulously type out and then strike out some of the places in Miami. “You think Paulo and Alvaro wanna come along?”

“Why?” Isco asked. “You think it’d be fun?”

“Yeah,” Franco shrugged. “Like a super extended double date.”

“I can't believe you want to vacation with Alvaro,” Isco said.

“It's just,” Franco paused. “Paulo told me – I don't know if Alvaro ever told you that...summers are a hard time for them.”

“Yeah, Alvaro told me.”

“It's just...their thing. Shitty summers.”

“Except that summer when they met.”

“Mmhmm. Seven shitty summers.”

“Sounds horrible.”

“So maybe…” Franco shrugged again. He seemed a little embarrassed to be showing so much of his soft side towards Paulo and Alvaro. “Maybe we could ask them along. So we can...take care of them.”

“‘Cause their summer sure as hell isn’t gonna be shitty with us around?”

“Yeah,” Franco beamed.

“Okay,” Isco said. “I mean, I'm sure they'd want as much private time as we would. So maybe that wouldn't be an issue.”

“It's gonna be so much fun.”

And he looked so fucking _excited_ and Isco was so _fond_. Franco took Isco’s phone and made him ask Paulo and Alvaro in the group chat because he was too embarrassed to do it himself. He watched Isco eagerly as Isco did it.

_You guys wanna go for vacation with me and Franco?_

Alvaro replied a few minutes later. _Paulo’s in Singapore. It's like 5am there._

_Do you think y'all wanna come?_

_Where are you guys going?_

_We're going to visit Franco's family, then we’re going to Miami and NY._

_We went to NY last summer._

_Not with our boyfriends._

_Fine,_ Alvaro said. _Paulo’s team is flying back to Argentina tomorrow. I'll call him._

_Cool. Let us know._

_When are you flying?_

_In the next few days._

_I'm thinking of going to Córdoba to visit Paulo’s family, too. Maybe we can fly together._

_Ok._

_Let me know._

Isco put his phone aside. Franco was looking proudly at him.

Isco gestured at the laptop in a silent ‘continue planning please.’ Franco returned to it obediently to search for tickets to Córdoba, then Miami.

“This is going to be the best fucking summer of our lives,” he said.

And as long as Franco was around, Isco was a hundred percent sure that even the shittiest summer could turn into the time of their lives.


	5. Sometime Too Hot The Eye Of Heaven Shines, And Often Is His Gold Complexion Dimmed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!
> 
> Sorry for the delay in updating. Work has been swallowing me whole :(  
> The chapters will be getting longer though! I hope you will like them! Meanwhile you can check out the [playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/mandzilkos/playlist/7lK6jq9rJQEg4YQ6DUfa0O) or talk to me on [tumblr](https://bernerdeschi.tumblr.com) :)
> 
> Thank you so much for sticking with me and I'm sorry to make you wait so long. I hope you enjoy!

In all honestly, Alvaro wasn’t really keen on the double date holiday thing if Franco was involved.

It wasn’t that he was still prickly towards Franco for whatever he’d thought Franco had done. It was just that he and Franco had rarely gotten along. In fact, the only two times Alvaro and Franco had actually done something together was Alvaro and Paulo’s press conference and Isco’s birthday party.

Though to be fair, both of those had been rousing successes.

And Alvaro appreciated that Franco was willing to let Isco extend the invitation.

So he called Paulo before Paulo boarded the flight back to Argentina, and he talked to Paulo about it. Paulo was very easy going about it, which was to be expected, although he did ask Alvaro if he _really_ wanted to holiday with Franco.

“I mean, I guess we could just drop out if we aren’t having fun,” was Alvaro’s defense. “And we haven’t planned our summer yet.”

“I’m cool if you’re cool, Alvi.”

“Okay, then,” Alvaro said hesitantly. “I’ll tell them we’re going, then?”

“Okay.”

“Is it okay if I fly to Córdoba to be with you and your family?”

“Yeah,” Paulo said, and he sounded. He sounded so excited. “When are you coming?”

“In a couple days. I’ll get a ticket with Isco and Franco.”

“They’re coming too?”

“Franco’s going home for a while.”

“I can’t wait to see you, Alvi.”

“Me, too,” Alvaro smiled. Paulo just. Paulo never failed to make Alvaro feel so warm inside. Even just his voice. For the past eight years, Paulo’s voice had been Alvaro’s sustenance. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Then they sat and listened to each other breathe for a while, Alvaro in Madrid and Paulo over eleven thousand kilometers away in Singapore, but the distance between their hearts never stretching past a centimeter.

“Alvi, I gotta board,” Paulo finally broke the silence with a whisper.

“I’ll see you soon,” Alvaro said softly. “Very soon.”

“Can’t wait.”

“Safe flight, baby.”

“Thank you. I love you so much.”

Then Paulo hung up and Alvaro just sat there smiling to himself for the next fifteen minutes.

He eventually picked up his phone and texted the group conversation. _We’re joining you._

 _COOL BEANZ,_ was Isco’s almost immediate reply. _About to book Córdoba tix. Friday evening okay? Flight from Madrid._

 _Yup,_ Alvaro replied. Friday was two days away. Ample time for Alvaro to pack. _Send me the details._

_Ok, I’m putting you on a seat next to Franco._

_Fuck off,_ Alvaro said, at the exact same time Franco appeared and did the same. Even though Alvaro was sure that Franco was sitting right there next to Isco.

 _Haha, soulmates,_ Isco said.

He was so annoying. Isco was so annoying. _How the fuck Franco live with you every single day?_

_He loves me to tiny bits._

Alvaro rolled his eyes. _Your bits are tiny enough._

Then he just burst out laughing even though he was on his own, because well. That was a good joke. It was a good joke. It was a pity no one was around to share it with.

 _Good one, Morata,_ Franco texted.

Okay, so if there was one thing Alvaro and Franco had in common, it was their sick sense of humour. Isco had it, too, but maybe Alvaro could work on it with Franco.

 _Fuck you two,_ Isco said. _You two are sitting together on the flight. Thirteen hours to Buenos Aires. We’ll see how you get along then._

_Don’t put us together._

_DoN’t PuT uS tOgEtHeR._

_How old are you?_

_HoW oLd ArE yOu?_

_Francisco Alarcon._

_FrAnCiScO aLaRcOn._

_Oh my God. Franco, control your boyfriend._

But Franco didn’t reply, so Isco must’ve taken his phone away or whatever. Alvaro threw his aside and just sat there, massaging his cheeks because they were sore from smiling too hard.

So maybe summer was going to be fucking whack after all.

\------

Fortunately for both Alvaro and Franco, Isco didn’t go through with putting them together on the flight.

He put himself between the two of them. Franco got the window seat. Alvaro got the aisle seat.

The flight began awkwardly. None of them said a single word. They just chucked their backpacks in the overhead storage and sat there in a row quietly.

Isco glanced to his right at Franco. He was looking excitedly out the window, like a small child on his first flight, even though nothing was happening outside except all the usual airport ground stuff.

On Isco’s left, Alvaro was just sitting with his hands clasped in his lap. He was staring nervously at the entertainment screen, even though it was just showing flight details.

Isco started to laugh. Franco and Alvaro turned to him curiously, which just made it worse.

“What?” Alvaro asked. He elbowed Isco’s arm off the armrest. Which, well. Was because Isco was hogging both armrests, but.

“Would you two stop being weird? This is day one. It’s not even day one. It’s hour one. We have like, two fucking weeks to go.”

“I’m not being weird,” Franco said. He glanced over at Isco, then down at his crotch, then at Alvaro’s crotch. “Put on your seatbelt.”

“ _I’m not being weird,_ ” Isco mocked. He didn’t move to buckle his seatbelt, so Franco sighed and reached over to do it for him.

“Morata,” Franco said restlessly.

Alvaro buckled his seatbelt obediently.

“Oh,” Isco giggled, leaning over to hook his arm in Franco’s and lean on Franco’s shoulder. “This is gonna be so much fun.”

Franco tried shaking him off but Isco clung to him like a pup. “I don’t get why we all have to sit together, the flight’s almost empty,” Alvaro remarked.

“You can go sit somewhere else if you want,” Isco said.

Alvaro crossed his arms and sulked throughout the whole takeoff. He distracted himself with the inflight entertainment when it came back on. Isco took off his shoes and curled up on himself, watching Franco’s screen instead of his own. It was just playing a documentary about zebras. Franco wasn’t watching it. He was looking out the window at nothingness. Isco took Franco’s earphones and put them on, resting his head on Franco’s shoulder. The zebras were actually quite interesting.

Alvaro started tapping on Isco’s shoulders a while later with his bony fingers. “Your feet are in my way,” he said.

“Just a lil bit,” Isco said drowsily. The zebras were hypnotising.

“Tired?” Franco whispered, finally turning from the window to look at Isco. From where Isco was lazing, Franco had like, twenty chins. He looked adorable. It made Isco smile.

“Just a lil bit,” Isco said again. The previous night, they’d deposited a sleeping Junior with Sonia, who had to tell Franco for the millionth time that yes, it was no trouble for her to take Junior and that yes, Isco was right and all Junior’s summers were spent with Sonia. Then they’d gone back to Seville early as fuck that morning so Franco could get some clean, holiday-appropriate clothes. Then they headed to Madrid to catch their flight. Isco was exhausted. But he couldn’t complain, because he was sure Franco was tired, too.

Besides, they’d finally gotten some of their airport restroom sex at the Madrid airport. That was probably what was making them exceptionally tired.

“Close your eyes and get some sleep,” Franco said.

“It’s only 3.55 in Buenos Aires,” Isco said, pointing at his own entertainment screen. “Not night time.”

“You’re still doing that?”

“I would like to.”

Franco smoothened Isco’s hair and gave his head a kiss. “You should sleep if you’re tired.”

“I’m not tired.”

“Sure.”

“I can stay awake a few more hours,” Isco said.

“Okay,” Franco smiled. “Where’s your pillow? Get your pillow.”

But Isco had left his square doughnut pillow with his backpack like the idiot Franco would say he was, so he had to squeeze past a very annoyed Alvaro to get it. He squeezed back inside and snuggled up to Franco again.

“Your feet,” Alvaro grumbled again.

“Go sit somewhere else,” Isco told him. “I wanna lie down.”

“Fine,” Alvaro said. He got up and shifted to the row in front of Isco and Franco, which was empty. He sat in the window seat quietly.

Isco lifted the armrests so he could stretch out across both seats and lie his head on Franco’s lap. He hugged his pillow tightly against his chest. “Franco,” he whispered.

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

Franco smiled. His fingers slid into Isco’s hair. “Me, too.”

“I’m so happy you’re taking me to Argentina.”

Franco’s smile grew. “Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I’m so happy you wanna come.”

A short silence.

“Remember the last time we took a flight across the Atlantic?” Isco asked.

“The…” Franco made a jerking off motion with his hand, then raised his eyebrows.

Isco nodded. “You want one?”

Franco laughed softly. He gave Isco’s hair a ruffle. “Darling, I think we’re way beyond that.”

“Yeah?” Isco smiled. “I like that we’re way beyond that.”

“You like that we’re having less and less sex?”

“No,” Isco gave Franco’s thigh a pinch. “I like that it’s not just sex anymore. That it doesn’t matter. Whether we’re having sex.”

Franco ran his fingers gently along Isco’s jawline. “I’d kiss you, but I can’t bend over that far.”

“I don’t wanna move. Imagine you’re kissing me.”

“Okay.”

“Talk to me so I don’t fall asleep until it’s night time.”

Franco told him stories about the stars which Isco didn’t know were real or fake, but between Franco’s soothing voice and his gentle hands tracing little circles in Isco’s hair, Isco knew his battle against sleep was a losing one.

But Isco also knew it would be the most glorious battle he’d ever lose.

\------

The lights in the cabin dimmed when it was half past ten pm Spanish time. Alvaro watched the little orange light on the plane’s wing blink methodically from a few rows in front of the window he was sitting at.

He wondered if Isco and Franco were already asleep. He twisted his body to peek at them from the hole between the seats. He could still see them in the faint glow of their entertainment screens.

They were very much not asleep; Isco was lying on his back, knees bent and legs twisted to the side to rest on the backs of the seats he was lying on. His head was on Franco’s thigh and his eyes were half-open. His hands were clutching one of Franco’s, which was on Isco’s chest. Franco’s other hand was lodged in Isco’s hair, gently mussing it up. They were talking to each other in hushed tones, and Franco was just. He was just gazing down at Isco with this loving look in his eyes that Alvaro had neither seen before nor even _thought_ he would ever see from Franco. He looked so happy. In all the times Alvaro had seen Franco, he’d never seen Franco this happy.

But Alvaro also realised one other thing.

This was almost the exact same position Alvaro had seen Paulo and Franco in on the night of the Champions League final.

But it was different. It was so different. Isco didn’t look like he was lying in Franco’s lap just because it was convenient, like Paulo had been doing. And Franco didn’t look like he was rubbing Isco’s head because Isco wanted it, like he’d been doing with Paulo. This was. This was the both of them, it was Isco and Franco, being completely selfish and spontaneous in their love. There was no ‘because he needed it.’ No ‘I just want to make him feel better.’ They weren’t doing it because the other party needed or wanted to. They were doing it because _they_ wanted it _themselves_ , and it just happened that the other party wanted it, too. Because Isco sure as fuck didn’t need Franco combing his hair, and Franco sure as fuck didn’t need to cheer Isco up. They were just doing it because. Because they loved each other.

Alvaro was suddenly hit with a violent gust of guilt that almost took all his breath away. Guilt that he’d ever doubted Franco and Isco’s relationship. That he’d ever doubted Paulo’s love for him. That he’d ever doubted Franco’s pure, unbiased concern for all his friends. That he had even _dared_ to wonder how and why it was different whether Franco did it to Paulo or Isco. Because it _was_ different. _It was different._

Because in Franco’s eyes, there was only Isco. Not only right then as Alvaro was watching them, but always. In Franco’s eyes, there had always only been Isco; there would _always only be Isco._ Even on that night. Even on that night when Alvaro and Isco had walked in on Franco and Paulo. _Franco only had eyes for Isco,_ he’d noticed _nothing else_ and _no one else_ the _very moment_ Isco had stepped into that room. Didn’t matter what he was doing. Didn’t matter who else was around.

And Alvaro was pretty sure he was right about that. He was pretty sure that Franco wasn’t just putting on a really good show for Alvaro. He was pretty sure that Franco didn’t even know Alvaro was watching him. Because in that very moment, in that very plane with hundreds of people suspended a few ten thousands of kilometers in the air – Alvaro was sure that in Franco’s world, only Franco and Isco existed.

Alvaro was still watching when Isco’s eyes shut completely and his blabbermouth finally stopped moving. He was completely aware he was totally performing some kind of voyeurism but he just. It was so heartwarming. It picked slowly at Alvaro’s heart, the part of Alvaro’s heart that was still frozen towards Franco, and melted it.

Franco didn’t look away when Isco fell asleep. He didn’t close his eyes and go to sleep himself. He didn’t remove his hands from Isco’s grasp or Isco’s hair. He just remained in the same position, like he was almost too afraid to move in case Isco awoke. He just kept looking at Isco with the tiniest smile on his face, like he was afraid if he looked away their bubble would pop. Like he was just. Just marvelling at Isco’s existence.

And Alvaro was suddenly so happy. He was so happy that Isco had found someone who loved him as much as Franco did. He was so happy that Isco had found his own slice of happiness in this world.

But that joy failed to push away the guilt Alvaro felt. He just wanted – he just wanted to apologise. He wanted to kneel in his seat and tap Franco’s shoulder and tell Franco he was sorry. He wanted to tell _Isco_ he was sorry. And he wanted to tell Paulo he was sorry, that he loved Paulo more than anything else in the world and he should never have let his insecurities get in their way.

Despite all that Alvaro also knew – he knew that his friends and his boyfriend forgave him. Even if he’d made a big mistake. They forgave him and they’d always been such angels to him and Alvaro was such a shithead.

Alvaro turned back in front. Twenty five minutes had passed, according to the clock on his screen. Alvaro didn’t want this to weigh on him for the entire summer. So he blinked his dumb tears away and decided not to think about it.

Half an hour later he turned to take another peek and saw Franco _still_ in the same position. One of his hands remained in Isco’s hair moving slowly, while the other slowly traced soft little paths all over Isco’s face. His eyes were a quarter closed but remained directed downwards at Isco. Isco looked sounder asleep than ever before.

Alvaro decided to have some fun.

He got out his phone and directed the front camera over his seat at Franco and Isco, and quietly took a video of Franco just sitting there watching Isco sleep and touching him everywhere. The video lasted a little more than ten seconds before Franco glanced up and saw Alvaro’s phone peeking over the seat. His little smile turned into a frown as he narrowed his eyes at the camera, then without shaking Isco, grabbed one of the lousy flight pillows and threw it at Alvaro’s phone so it knocked the phone out of Alvaro’s hands and bumped Alvaro on the head.

Alvaro started laughing, knowing Franco wouldn’t move to hit him because he couldn’t bear to wake Isco up. He threw the pillow backwards and turned just in time to see Franco frantically trying to catch it before it landed on Isco’s face.

“Fuck off,” Franco whispered when he saw Alvaro stuffing his head between the seats.

“He’s not a baby,” Alvaro whispered back.

Franco’s face morphed into a scowl, which Alvaro thought maybe was meant to scare him but which only made him more amused. Franco wrapped an arm protectively around Isco’s head as if he was telling Alvaro, without any words, _yes, he is_ , _he’s my baby._

Alvaro posted the video to his Instagram story, knowing it would upload when they landed and got wi-fi. He put the word ‘GROSS’ in big bold white letters across the screen above Franco’s head, and tagged both Isco and Franco.

He thought maybe this summer wasn’t going to be bad after all – at least not if he got to annoy the fuck out of Franco every single day.

\------

They had a four-hour layover when they landed in Buenos Aires past four in the morning local time. A few hours into the flight, Franco ended up stretching his legs out on the seats and hugging Isco to him so Franco wouldn’t get deep vein thrombosis or whatever from lack of movement. And then Franco managed to drift into a shallow sleep. Isco woke up long enough for them get off the plane, but then immediately found a row of benches and fell asleep again.

Franco sat next to him and softly told him to move his head onto Franco’s lap. Fortunately, Isco did so without much fussing, just turned his face into the space between Franco’s hip and thigh, crossed his arms through the hole in his pillow, and went quiet.

Alvaro wandered off to find a food place that was open. He came back ten minutes later munching on a sandwich and holding another. He passed it to Franco. It was warm and it contained some ham and melted cheese.

Franco decided that he’d wait for Isco to get up, so he put the sandwich on Isco’s backpack.

“You don’t like it?” Alvaro asked. He sounded a little disappointed.

“Saving it for him,” Franco said. He pointed his chin at Isco.

“We’ll get him another one later,” Alvaro took a bite of his sandwich so the crumbs fell out of his mouth as he spoke. “Fresh.”

Franco picked up the sandwich again and took a bite. It was warmly toasted and delicious.

He ate in silence next to Alvaro, who finished his sandwich in like, seven seconds. It was no wonder he was best friends with Isco.

“So,” Alvaro started softly. Awkwardly. He paused when a crumb fell from Franco’s lips and landed in Isco’s hair, and Franco had some trouble getting it out. He looked like he wanted to laugh but didn’t dare to. “Your place near Paulo’s?”

Franco nodded. “‘Bout two hours.”

“Cool.”

Another silence.

“Did you sleep on the flight?” Alvaro asked.

Franco guessed those few minutes of shut-eye didn’t count, so he shook his head. Another crumb fell and Franco scooped it off Isco’s huge forehead.

“Aren’t you tired?” Alvaro continued. “Do you want to take a nap? I’ll look after our things.”

Franco shook his head again. “Don’t like sleeping in public.”

“Oh,” Alvaro said. He gestured to Isco. “Opposite from him, then.”

“Yeah,” Franco smiled. “Sleeps anywhere he can.”

Another longer silence.

“I think I need some coffee,” Franco said, at the same time Alvaro said, “Franco, I’m sorry.”

“What?” Franco said. “Why?”

“For…” Alvaro shrugged, then gestured to Isco again. “Ever...ever doubting this.”

Franco shook his head. “It’s okay,” he said softly.

“It’s not,” Alvaro said earnestly. “I know I was wrong and I want you to know that. I don’t – I don’t want you to be secretly mad at me or anything. I mean, I know you have a right, and I understand if you’re angry, but –”

“I’m not angry.”

“– I just am really sorry and I want you to know that.”

“It’s okay,” Franco said again. Because it was. It was okay to Franco as long as Paulo was okay with it, which appeared to be so. “I’m not angry.”

“You accept my apology?”

“I accept your apology,” Franco said. “Jesus. You’re just like Isco.”

Alvaro smiled. “Yeah?”

“It’s no wonder you guys get along.”

“You know,” Alvaro said. “I thought you two wouldn’t get along.”

Franco burst into laughter. He couldn’t help it. He jostled Isco a little and made him stir. “We didn’t. Didn’t get along at first.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Not at all.”

“I mean, Paulo and I knew you’d fuck, but then – you know, it’s just different.”

“He annoyed the fuck out of me.”

“But not now?”

“Not now,” Franco smiled. He turned to Isco, who had flipped on his back and nearly fallen off the bench, waking himself up. “Hi, baby.”

“Hi,” Isco said sleepily. He gave a really long, annoying whine as he stretched, slapping Franco in the face. “I need to pee.”

A child. He was a child.

They all got up and went in search for a restroom, where Franco brandished a toothbrush for Isco to brush his teeth. He earned himself judgemental looks from the both of them, but Isco ended up obediently brushing his teeth as Alvaro watched on in amusement.

Then they found a coffee shop and there was a queue to order. Franco took everyone’s orders and then stood in line while Isco wandered off to look at the cakes and pastries on display.

“Hey,” Franco said before Alvaro could drift away to join him. “Morata. About earlier...don’t worry about it, okay?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Let’s just. Let’s have the best summer of our lives.”

Alvaro beamed. “Deal,” he said, and then scurried off to join Isco, who was excitedly gesturing at him to go over. He’d probably seen some sort of pastry he liked and was being a total noob over it, Franco bet.

When Franco was near the front of the queue Isco suddenly ran up to him with his phone in his hand. There was a photo on it of the pastries in the display.

“What’s dulce de leche?” he asked, zooming in to a croissant. “Is it what I think it is?”

“It’s kinda like caramel,” Franco said. “Filled with caramel.”

“A special kind of caramel?”

“I guess you could say so.”

“That one too?” Isco asked, zooming into a cup of fried donuts.

“Mmhmm.”

“What are they?”

“Kinda like donuts.”

“I want one.”

“The croissant or the donuts?”

“Okay, I want both.”

“Anything else?”

“I want that thing with the little cherry on top.”

Franco laughed. It was a pastry with vanilla cream. “Okay. Go find a seat with Alvaro.”

Isco took Franco’s bag and skittered away. Franco saw them settle into a window seat overlooking the planes taking off. There were three chairs, two against the window and one facing it. Isco took one of those against the window. He started scolding Alvaro when Alvaro took the other one, gesturing wildly at the chair in the middle. Alvaro eventually moved there with a violent sulk.

They were still arguing when Franco brought the breakfast-laden tray over. “I thought you wanted to sit together,” Alvaro was saying.

“Franco likes the window.”

“Why don’t you sit here, then, then you’ll be next to him?”

“I like the window too.”

“Fine. I didn’t know that.”

“You know nothing, Jon Snow.”

And then Franco. Franco burst into laughter because Alvaro _did_ look like Jon Snow, and Franco wondered why he hadn’t noticed that earlier, and he just couldn’t stop laughing and Isco and Alvaro got distracted from their argument and started staring at Franco instead.

“He does look like Jon Snow,” Franco managed to say.

“Doesn’t he?” Isco said proudly, but Alvaro narrowed his eyes.

Franco started laughing again. “I’m never unseeing this.”

“Great,” Alvaro grumbled. “Thanks. Franco’s gonna say ‘you know nothing, Jon Snow’ to me for the entire summer.”

“Only if you say stupid things,” Franco offered.

Alvaro crossed his arms. “Well, joke’s on you two, I got the best view. Front view. Don’t have to turn my body.”

Isco repeated that in a really ridiculous mocking tone which made Franco laugh again. He listened to Isco coo over every bite of food he took and he felt. He felt this sense of pride, this sense of fulfilment, from having Isco visit his home country halfway across the world. He couldn’t wait to give Isco the time of his life.

The three of them chatted restlessly, flitting from topic to topic. Franco listened to Isco and Alvaro talk most of the time, sipping his coffee and getting up to order another cup when he’d finished it and was still tired.

“Why isn’t the sun up?” Isco asked. “It’s like, past seven.”

“It’s winter,” Franco said. “Nights are longer.”

“Oh,” Isco said.

“You packed for winter, didn’t you?” Franco asked, because knowing Isco, it wouldn’t be any surprise at all if he’d packed for Argentine summer in June. Alvaro gave a little snicker like he agreed. “I told you it was gonna be cold.”

“I did,” Isco said slowly.

“How much?” Franco asked.

“Uh...a sweater,” Isco scratched the back of his head. He leaned forward with bright, eager eyes. “You’ll keep me warm?”

Franco laughed. Isco had his elbows rested on the table, which was almost the same height as the chairs they were sitting on so Isco was all crouched over and looked like a frog of some sort. His face rested in his hands as he peered at Franco.

“Mmhmm,” Franco said, because well. He _would_ keep Isco warm. The Argentine winter wasn’t all that cold, anyway. Besides, he was sure Isco wouldn’t mind some oversized winter jackets that had been lying around Franco’s house for ages. “Very warm.”

A mild eyefucking session ensued. It ended when Alvaro smacked the both of them on the shoulders and said, “Get a fucking room!”

Isco giggled. He picked up his coffee and finished it in a big gulp, then got up and took both his own backpack and Franco’s. Then he walked towards their gate because it was about to open. The bags bounced rhythmically on his butt as he walked ahead of Franco and Alvaro.

“You make him very happy,” Alvaro said as they stepped on the travelator.

“Yeah?” Franco smiled. That was everything he wanted in this world. “You think so?”

Alvaro nodded. “I mean, he’s always happy, but. But this is a different kind of happy.”

“You make Paulo very happy, too.”

“I can’t wait to see him.”

“Are you feeling left out? I’m sorry if we’re making you feel left out.”

Alvaro shook his head. “I just, you know. I miss him.”

“Yeah,” Franco said. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, feeling awkward without Isco or a bag to hold.

They walked in silence the rest of the way to the gate, where Isco was waiting for them. Franco took his bag and retrieved his passport, and then sat next to Isco as they waited to board the plane. Isco spoke animatedly to Alvaro about some stuff happening in Madrid that Franco didn’t really understand. But Franco watched and Franco listened. He would always be contented doing just that.

He didn’t speak until the flight lifted off. He turned to Isco when there was break in his and Alvaro’s conversation. “I’m so happy you’re in Argentina,” he said.

Isco smiled. He kissed Franco on the cheek, then the lips, and he tasted like caramel and latte and peppermint toothpaste, he tasted like Isco and it was Franco’s favourite taste in the world.

\------

The first person Alvaro saw upon stepping out of the arrival hall was Paulo, standing in front of the exit, climbing on the railing to look taller so Alvaro would see him. Though that was unnecessary, because he was waving like a mad idiot and Alvaro saw him from meters away.

Alvaro ran right up to him and wrapped him up in a tight hug. Standing on the bottom rail made Paulo taller so he was almost Alvaro’s height.

“Hi,” Alvaro whispered as Paulo pecked him on the lips.

“Hi,” Paulo smiled. He gently ruffled Alvaro’s hair. “Where’s Franco and Isco?”

Alvaro turned behind him to see Franco and Isco trudging along behind him, dragging their bags. Isco looked wide awake and his eyes were darting around excitedly. He was holding the hand of a very miserable-looking Franco.

Paulo burst into laughter when he saw them. “He didn’t sleep on the flight, did he?”

Alvaro nodded. “He’s so weird.”

“Is he?” Paulo asked. He had a mischievous gleam in his eye.

“Yes,” Alvaro said. “I’m so glad you’re here. I can’t take any more of his weirdness.”

“Come on, then,” Paulo smiled. “Get out here. Franco’s parents are over there.”

Alvaro grabbed his luggage and scurried after Franco and Isco, stopping where they were with Franco’s parents. Paulo stood next to him, and they watched Franco and Isco do all the necessary greetings with Franco’s parents before Alvaro was introduced to them. They were nice and friendly and Alvaro wondered why Franco inherited none of those genes.

Alvaro and Paulo parted ways with the rest of them, since Laguna Larga and Tanti were in opposite directions of the city. Paulo drove Alvaro back to his place, about an hour away. The streets were busy, given it was a Saturday morning, but the highway was peaceful with the shrubbery running along it, and when the trees gave way, large plains running further than the eye could see. The sun was shining down on them, too, finally. Alvaro watched the trees fly by as Paulo drove, way over the speed limit. He was so happy to be here. This place, a foreign country over an entire ocean, was like a second home to Alvaro, despite him having only visited it as many times as he could count on the fingers of one hand.

Or maybe his third home, since his second home was with Paulo in Turin. Whatever it was, it was one of Alvaro’s homes.

By the time they reached Paulo’s childhood home it was past lunchtime, but Alvaro was so touched to see that Paulo’s mom and his brothers had waited for him to have lunch together. They ate quietly but comfortably, Alvaro doing most of the talking as he caught Paulo’s family up on what had happened since the last time they’d all met. Which, if Alvaro remembered correctly, was December the previous year, over Christmas. Far too long ago for Alvaro’s liking.

He made up for it by just chilling around with them the entire day, sitting on the couch watching reality shows and having heated discussions about nothing and then making up again three minutes later. He followed Mariano and Gustavo out into the backyard when they dragged Paulo outside for a kickaround, and he joined them, finding that the cold was much more bearable once they started to move around.

The sky turned dark early in the evening, though, and the temperature dipped; it certainly would bother anyone who hailed from sunny Spain, much less Alvaro. He escaped indoors with Paulo in tow.

“It’s bedtime in Spain,” Paulo said, pointing at the clock. It read 5pm sharp. “Are you tired?”

Alvaro shook his head. “Take me for a walk,” he said. “So I won’t be sleepy until bedtime.”

“Okay,” Paulo smiled. He popped into the kitchen to tell his mom that he and Alvaro were going out for dinner, then returned with Alvaro’s winter jacket as well as his own.

The night was a little chilly but Alvaro was comfortable under his down jacket and some gloves of the right size that Paulo had gotten for him. They had dinner at a cosy little restaurant and got two portions of soup to go, holding them to warm their hands as they walked.

Paulo did most of the talking. He told Alvaro about his time in Australia and Singapore. About the things he saw. About the people he met. He was – he was so happy and content from having practically travelled the entire world in just the span of two weeks, from Europe to Australia to Asia and then back to Argentina. And Alvaro was just. Alvaro was so happy to see him this happy. Alvaro could listen to him chatter away all day and all night. He held every story as close to his heart as he could, in this little mental book, knowing he would rather die than ever let anyone steal it away from him. No matter how dusty it got. No matter how yellowed the pages were or how thick the book ended up to be, overflowing with everything Paulo ever had to say. No matter how much dust caked it or how much rain battered it. Alvaro would always keep his little book of Paulo’s treasures right there next to his heart.

Paulo took his glove off when they were done with their soup. He took the glove off Alvaro’s hand and held it in his, and Alvaro thought he had never felt warmer and more comfortable than he did right then.

“How was your international break?” Paulo asked.

“It was nothing much,” Alvaro said. “Just flew around Europe a little. Not as exciting as yours.”

Paulo smiled. “Flying around Europe. There are many people who dream of doing that.”

They found a bench outside a bakery and Alvaro waited while Paulo got them some pastries lathered with that same dulce de leche that Isco was being such a fucking fanboy over at the airport. Then they ate in silence, watching people shuffle by.

“You and Franco getting along?” Paulo asked. It seemed to be a very popular topic of conversation among the four of them.

Alvaro nodded. “Yeah, just enough.”

“You regretting coming on this trip already?”

“Nope.”

“Will you regret it?”

“I hope not.”

Paulo chuckled. “Well, we could always just go our own way whenever we want.”

“They’re pretty cute, don’t you think?” Alvaro said. “Him and Isco.”

“Mmhmm.”

“He makes Isco so happy.”

“They make each other so happy,” Paulo said softly. “Franco is...he’s so different now.”

“It’s like he loves getting bothered by Isco.”

Paulo laughed. “Yeah,” he said. “I’m so happy they found each other. I’ve known Franco for ages and...this is the first time I’ve ever seen him so happy. Seen him with someone who makes him smile every time he’s around. And I know Isco is as much of an angel as Franco is, and I just. I don’t know. They’re a perfect match.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro smiled.

Another silence.

“Paulo,” Alvaro whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Do I make you happy?”

Paulo turned to Alvaro and stared at him for a second, but Alvaro didn’t yield, didn’t dare to make eye contact with him. Paulo took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“Of course you do,” he whispered.

“Yeah?” Alvaro asked.

Paulo let go of Alvaro’s hand and cupped Alvaro’s cheeks in his palms, turning Alvaro to face him, giving Alvaro barely enough time to blink his tears away.

“Alvi, what are you asking?” Paulo asked softly.

Alvaro shrugged. He gestured uselessly at the space in front of them. “I just. I saw them. I saw them on the flight over here, and Isco was asleep most of the time and Franco was just. He just watched Isco. He just kept watching and he had this little smile on his face and he didn’t close his eyes and go to sleep. He’s so happy. Isco makes him so happy. Even when he’s not doing anything. And I – Paulo, I just. I just want to make you happy. I want to make you as happy as Isco makes Franco.”

“You do,” Paulo said, giving Alvaro’s cheeks a squeeze as a shudder escaped Alvaro’s shoulders. “Hey. You make me the happiest man in the world.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro whispered.

“Mmhmm. The happiest.”

“I just,” Alvaro started sobbing. “I should never have doubted that. I should never have doubted how dedicated, how in love Franco is with Isco. I should never have doubted that Franco will only ever have eyes for Isco. Paulo. I should never have doubted _you_ , I should never have and I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Paulo said again. “We’ve been through this.”

“I know, but I,” Alvaro sighed, a weight in his chest pulling his heart to the ground. “I just. Just saw them on the way over here and I just realised. Realised the extent of my mistake.”

“That’s all it is,” Paulo whispered, thumbs catching Alvaro’s tears. “A mistake. And I was mad at you for it but I’m not anymore. Okay? I’m not anymore.”

“I’ve let all of you down.”

“You haven’t,” Paulo said. “Look. I know. I know what it’s like, you loving me. I know that...I know you’ve always wanted to protect me and sometimes it’s...it’s too much. I know that. But me being mad at you – that’s over. Okay? It’s over. You’re not letting me down. You’re not letting Franco down because I know Franco has the most open, understanding heart of anyone in the world and I know that he’s long forgiven you for it. And Isco – well. I don’t think anyone could ever let Isco down. So you haven’t, okay? Don’t say you let us down. You haven’t. Or if you like to think that you did, please just know that it’s all over and no one blames you now. Okay?”

Alvaro nodded. He let his sobs fade away before he asked, again, “I make you happy, yeah? You’re not just saying it ‘cause it’s what I want to hear.”

“I’m not,” Paulo smiled.

“It’s just – just all I ever want. You know? For you to be happy.”

Paulo nodded. “I know. But our happy doesn’t have to be the same as Franco and Isco’s happy. Okay? It’s because you’re looking at them from the outside. You can’t look at us from the outside. Maybe you look at me that way when I sleep. Or I do you. But we don’t know that. And even if it’s different, it doesn’t matter. As long as we both know what we feel inside, inside here, in our hearts, then nothing else can ever matter. And you do make me happy, you make me so fucking happy, Alvaro Morata, knowing you for the past eight years has been the greatest joy of my life.”

And then Alvaro. Alvaro just started crying again because he couldn’t help it. He felt so embarrassed, sitting on a bench in the middle of the street just crying, but Paulo didn’t seem to mind. He just pulled Alvaro’s beanie lower over his forehead and wrapped Alvaro up in a warm hug and whispered ‘shh, it’s okay’ into his ear over and over again until Alvaro calmed down.

“Maybe you just need some sleep,” Paulo whispered. “Yeah? Let’s go home and have some sleep.”

“I just keep thinking about the past eight years and – and how I treated you most of the time,” Alvaro continued, aware he was rambling but. But not being able to help himself. “And if I could go back I’d do it all differently, even if I still don’t know how it’ll turn out, I’d do everything differently.”

“Doesn’t matter to me,” Paulo said, smiling. “Yeah? You know that?”

“I love you,” Alvaro whispered. “I love you so much and I don’t deserve you.”

“Alvi, don’t say that,” Paulo said. “Don’t. What’s up with you? You aren’t usually like this.”

“I don’t know.”

“Have you been googling us again?”

Alvaro shook his head, but. But he couldn’t help but smile. The way Paulo said ‘googling’ was so adorable.

“Why are you smiling?” Paulo asked.

“Say ‘googling’ again.”

“Will it make you feel better?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. Googling.”

Alvaro laughed. He pinched Paulo’s cheeks between his fingers. “You’re so cute.”

“Yeah?” Paulo smiled. “You think so?”

“The cutest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“I love you, Alvi,” Paulo whispered, fingers grasping the front of Alvaro’s jacket.

“Love you, too,” Alvaro leaned forward and pressed his lips on Paulo’s. It sent a familiar warmth radiating through his body. “I love you so much.”

Paulo pulled away from the kiss and nudged Alvaro’s nose with his own, pushing their foreheads together. He said nothing for a while, just watched Alvaro. Watched Alvaro from barely an inch away, his bright green eyes unfocused from being so close but still the brightest, most beautiful thing that Alvaro had ever seen.

“Let’s go home, yeah?” Paulo finally said. “Get some sleep. You’re tired. That’s why you’re being weird.”

“I’m not being weird.”

“You’re right. You’re weird all the time, it’s nothing special.”

Alvaro shoved him hard in the shoulder and Paulo stood up, laughing. He grabbed Alvaro’s hand and pulled him along, hand in hand down the street all the way back home.

“Hey,” Paulo finally said after the longest, most comfortable silence. “We did one thing right.”

“Hmm?” Alvaro mumbled.

“In this whole Champions League saga. We did one thing right.”

“What’s that?” Alvaro asked. He turned to Paulo and. And Paulo was just gazing over at him with the proudest, softest look in his eyes, and he looked so _adorable_ and innocent and he would always be Alvaro’s dearest, Alvaro’s best friend in the entire universe, and Alvaro couldn’t resist but to just let go of his hand and grab him in a hug, tucking his head under Alvaro’s shoulder.

Paulo started giggling and he said something that was muffled in Alvaro’s jacket and which Alvaro couldn’t hear. When Alvaro asked him to repeat it, he said, “We didn’t google ourselves.”

Alvaro smiled. “Say google again.”

“Google.”

“Do you think we should google ourselves?”

A long pause from Paulo, then, “No.”

“No? Yeah?”

“We shouldn’t care as long as we know what we’re doing.”

“But do you want to know what they said?”

“No.”

“Okay,” Alvaro said. He knew that little itch inside him that did want to know would eventually fade away. If Paulo – Paulo, who had been so eager at the beginning to know what people thought about them, and Paulo, who had cried when he first read people's comments – could do it, then Alvaro was hell bent on joining him.

“Alvi,” Paulo said. “I’m very happy we didn’t actually have to play each other.”

Alvaro smiled. “Me, too.”

“Maybe next time.”

“Paulo,” Alvaro said softly. He sighed and his breath created a mild fog in front of him. “I just. I know that football will always be first for you. It has always been. We are very lucky that even with us together...that it still can be. And I don’t want that to ever change because of me. Okay?”

Paulo nodded and twisted his neck to smile at Alvaro. “Anyway, I have the rest of my life after this to put you first.”

Alvaro grinned back down at him. He had always been so comforted by the fact that he and Paulo would always be okay, that they would always work things out, and despite the unfamiliar cold weather in June in a strange place that somehow felt like home – Alvaro knew that his summer had just officially begun.

\------

Franco stayed awake long enough to practically just step into his house.

Okay, so he managed to take a quick shower, too. But that was all. He proceeded to fall asleep curled up in a gigantic armchair, leaving Isco alone with his parents until Nicolas and Federico popped by in the evening. Isco took a shower before joining Franco, digging his way under Franco’s arm and curling up with him. It was nice and warm where he was, protecting Isco from the cold weather.

Isco watched TV with Franco’s parents as they occasionally spoke to him in hushed tones. Isco was beginning to familiarize himself with the way the Argentines spoke Spanish; it would’ve been a shame if he hadn’t, since Franco spoke it all the time. Franco did try to speak the Spanish Isco spoke, especially when Isco looked confused, but that had been happening much less frequently by then.

Franco’s parents were used to Franco being like this whenever he flew across the Atlantic. They’d learnt to give him at least a day for recalibration. Isco mentioned that Franco was so weird, which made Franco’s parents laugh.

Nicolas and Federico didn’t bother specially lowering their voices when they came, just bellowed throughout the house and Isco wanted to shush them but then he also realised that Franco didn’t appear to be bothered; in fact, Franco hadn’t really moved at all. Suddenly worried, Isco put his finger under Franco’s nose. He was relieved when a hot breath landed on it.

Franco’s mom caught him doing it and chuckled. “Did the same thing too many times before,” she said.

Isco smiled. He tucked Franco’s head in his shoulder. Franco’s bony knees were digging into Isco’s thighs so Isco shifted a little.

“What do you want for dinner?” Franco’s mom asked.

Isco blinked at her, then shrugged. “Uh, I’ll...I’ll sit with him? If that's...okay?”

“It's okay,” she said. “But you don't have to.”

Isco glanced at Franco, who was in deep sleep and completely oblivious to anything but who looked so utterly breathtaking. And Isco didn't want to leave his side, didn't want to take a further step into the house because he knew there were a lot of things Franco wanted to be the first to show him. Isco turned back to Franco’s mom.

She gave another knowing chuckle. “We’ll save you some food,” she said kindly. She walked over and first gave Franco, and then Isco, a little kiss on the head. Then she left the TV remote on the side table next to Isco.

Franco gave a soft sigh as he tucked himself more firmly into Isco’s arms. “You wanna go to bed?” Isco whispered, but Franco didn’t reply.

So Isco just held him, less because of the fact that he was trapped under Franco anyway and more because he was so warm and comfortable where he was. He took the remote and flipped lazily through the channels until he found a show about how latex gloves were made. He watched that till the end and then switched his attention to Franco sleeping, looking like an adorable little baby bunny, his head cradled in Isco’s arm.

Isco placed a palm on Franco’s cheek. Franco had. Franco had such a big face. And a big head. And he was just tall and strong and he had such long limbs and Isco just felt so _small_ next to him. His hand looked so small wherever he put it on Franco’s body. He traced his fingers down Franco’s jawline and his shoulder. Franco was a gigantic, heavy work of art that Isco was willing to lug around with him everywhere.

Franco seemed to sink into Isco’s grasp wherever Isco touched him, physically restless but mentally in the deepest of sleeps, as evident by him not awakening no matter where Isco touched him.

“I love you,” Isco whispered.

No response.

“I love being here,” Isco continued whispering. “Even though it’s cold as fuck and all you’ve done since we arrived is sleep, and all I’ve done is watch TV and watch you. I love that I’m here where you grew up and I want to know everything, I want to learn about everything and I’m so excited. I want to hear it all from you. I feel like I can never finish learning about you and I never want to. I love you more with everything I learn. I love you and you will never know how much but I do, Franco Vazquez, I love you.”

Still no response. Franco had even begun to snore softly.

Isco smiled. He ran his hands soothingly through Franco’s hair and just. Just sat there watching him. If life was all about finding a balance in everything that was, then Isco had found it. He had found it right there where he was, in a foreign land thirteen hours away from home. He felt like he was walking on a tightrope suspended high up in the air; but at the same time completely void of fear, completely unafraid of taking one wrong step and tumbling to his death. Because there was no wrong step. There could _be_ no wrong step.

He wasn’t sure how long he sat there just watching Franco sleep like some sort of creep, occasionally whispering to him little stories and little tender words that he was almost too shy to say to Franco while he was awake, but he vaguely noticed Franco’s parents just standing at the far end of the living room and looking at them and whispering about them before leaving to go to bed. Nicolas and Federico left them alone, thankfully.

The next time Isco looked at the clock it was past ten pm.

Isco closed his eyes and leaned his cheek on Franco’s head with a sigh. Yes, he’d slept like, thirteen hours in total, but. He felt so comfortable there in the big, soft armchair, Franco curled up against him like an overgrown squirrel.

So Isco fell asleep again. He had the nicest dreamless sleep, just like the one he’d had on the flight over to Buenos Aires.

He was only awoken when Franco started to fidget. He opened his eyes and glanced at the clock. It was in the middle of the night, some time close to three am, from what Isco’s hazy eyesight could make out.

“Sorry,” Franco whispered. “Go back to sleep.”

Isco shook his head. He smoothened Franco’s hair back on his head. “How you feeling?”

Franco stared at him for a while, blinking like he didn't understand. Then he said, confused, in a voice still thick with sleep, “Yeah.”

Isco laughed. He gave Franco a big kiss on the lips, ignoring when Franco cringed at their breaths mingling. He touched his fingertips to the pattern on Franco’s cheek from when he was sleeping against the textured cushion. Franco looked so flustered and confused it was adorable.

“You wanna go to bed now?” Isco asked. He wasn't really sleepy, but he could laze around in bed with Franco in the room he hadn't seen yet. “Or do you want to eat something? Your mom left some rice and chicken for us. I’ll heat it up.”

Franco blinked at him again, his mouth opening and then closing. “Say it again?” he asked.

Isco laughed. He abandoned the whole idea of asking Franco what he wanted to do. He didn't look like he needed any more sleep. Isco took his hand and brought him to the bathroom they'd used earlier, down the hall. He put Franco in front of the mirror and told him to brush his teeth. Franco did so obediently. Isco was too lazy to get his own toothbrush, so he opened the cabinet and found a disposable one, which he used.

Franco splashed some water on his face and then cleaned it dry with a towel. He took Isco’s hand as Isco walked back outside to the kitchen.

“I’m awake now,” he informed Isco.

Isco laughed. “Yeah?”

“Mmhmm. How long have I slept?”

“‘Bout twelve, thirteen hours.”

Franco sighed. He sat on a stool and watched Isco get the leftovers and heat them up. “Never been good at this.”

Isco turned on the stove and covered the two pots before walking over to Franco, nudging Franco’s thighs apart so he could stand between them. In this position Isco and Franco had the same eye level.

“You can't be good at _everything,_ ” Isco said. “You're already good at so many things. It won't be fair.”

Franco smiled. A slight pink started to tint his cheeks, and he tried to hide it by burying his face in Isco’s neck. “You're so disgusting,” he mumbled.

Isco hugged him until the appealing scent of the chicken wafted across the kitchen, after which Isco had to reluctantly pull away and dish the food into two plates for him and Franco.

He sat across the kitchen island from Franco and dug his spoon into the rice, but Franco suddenly stood up and grabbed his hand.

“I haven't shown you around,” he said.

“We can eat first,” Isco suggested.

“Let's eat in my room.”

Isco narrowed his eyes. “You sure you want that?”

“In my room. Not in my bed. As long as you don't drop food anywhere and clean up after you're done.”

“I don't have to clean up. You'll do it for me anyway.”

Franco scoffed. “C’mon,” he said, tugging at Isco’s arm. “Let's go.”

Franco led him around the living room again and showed him the dark backyard, where there was a pool, empty for the winter. He showed Isco the guest room, then brought him upstairs outside his parents’ room, not opening the door because they were asleep. Federico and Nicolas had left for their own homes, so Franco brought Isco into their rooms.

Isco felt this mixture of excited and nervous as they took the last flight of stairs to the topmost storey. The short hallway in front of Franco’s room was completely dark, so Franco switched on the light. It was soft and golden and it lit up the outside of Franco’s door and cast a yellow glow into the room as Franco opened it, and.

And it was exactly the same as Isco’s.

There were three white walls and one coloured one, painted a deep sea blue, behind the headboard of Franco’s bed. There was no flag hanging over the bed, but some of the roof beams were uncovered and from them hung orange and white fairy lights. Beside Franco’s wardrobe were a few clothes racks of jerseys. His medals hung on the wall behind them. His work table was almost empty and really neat, and in the corner sat a photo of Franco’s family. The window he had was larger than Isco’s and similarly slanted with the roof. There was a wide cushioned bench under it and you could see up out the window from it, directly up at the sky. Franco’s bed was low, hugging the floor, and his room was carpeted.

Franco flicked a switch and all the fairy lights turned on. He brought Isco to the window and sat down on the cushioned seat, patting the space next to him. Isco sat down in it.

“It's just like mine,” Isco whispered.

Franco smiled. “Isn't it?”

“I love it.”

“Thank you.”

They started eating quietly, looking out the window and just. Just soaking in each other’s company. It was an ungodly hour and completely silent except for the soft rumbling of the air conditioning, but it was dark outside and comfortably dim inside, and it was so peaceful and Isco didn't think he had ever felt this way before.

After about fifteen minutes of their utensils clanging softly against their plates, Isco was done with his food and Franco was about halfway through.

“Can you see stars from here?” Isco asked.

And Franco. Franco was suddenly so _excited_ he practically threw his plate on the ground. He settled instead on getting up and putting it on his work table, taking a case from under it, and bringing it back to Isco.

“You scared of the cold?” he asked.

Isco shook his head skeptically. Franco made him get off the seat so he could move it further out from the wall, then he took out whatever it was from the case and started setting it up in the space between the chair and the wall.

It turned out to be a telescope. Franco Vazquez had a fucking hugeass telescope.

He adjusted it so it pointed at the window. The window slid up and then flipped open, so Franco could extend the telescope upwards. Then he fiddled around with his phone a little, fine-tuned the direction, and gestured for Isco to look through it.

“What's this?” Isco asked. He could see a little roundish blur. He squinted so he could see more clearly.

“Saturn,” Franco said, and when Isco turned to look at him he was _beaming_ his face off, his eyes crinkled at the sides. “That's Saturn. You can see it in June.”

“Yeah?” Isco smiled. He looked through the telescope again and he could make out the shape of Saturn’s rings. “It's pretty.”

“Yeah?” Franco asked eagerly, like Isco liking it meant the world to him.

“Can you see anything else?”

Isco moved aside so Franco could adjust the telescope again, and Franco showed him a few constellations and a galaxy, grumbling a little when he struggled with adjusting the telescope settings. He jabbered away about the stars and Isco felt so happy listening to him.

“Look outside a little longer and your eyes will adjust to the dark and you’ll see stars without a telescope,” Franco said. He shifted the telescope aside and got up to turn off the lights in the room, then returned to Isco's side and pushed the bench back against the wall. Then he just sat there, arms resting on the windowsill, head extended out to look at the sky.

Isco watched him for a while, watched as Franco’s hair ruffled a little in the chilly night air and then started to stand on end from the cold. He watched as Franco retrieved an old quilt from under the bench, draped it so it was hanging out over the window, and turned so the back of his head was resting on the windowsill and he was looking up at the sky with the window as his pillow. Isco joined him. The slope of the roof was quite gentle, so they could actually see the sky beyond it, on the other side.

A couple minutes later Isco’s eyes adjusted to the dark outside and the sky slowly started to light up with stars. Bright and faint, blue and white, large and tiny – there were so many of them. Isco lay there in awe, watching as they twinkled above him. There weren’t as many as they’d seen on their way to San Francisco a year ago, but. But it was still more than Isco would ever see on any given day. More than there were in Madrid. It helped that Tanti was more of a rural region with barely any streetlights.

As Isco lay there under the protective blanket of stars, he finally understood what Franco meant when he said that stars made him feel safe and peaceful.

“I used to do this all the time,” Franco whispered, like he was afraid if he spoke too loudly the stars would run away. “Myself.”

Isco took his hand and squeezed it. “Don’t have to do that anymore,” he whispered back.

Franco smiled. He got up from the windowsill and leaned over to kiss Isco on the lips; so softly and so tenderly that Isco almost felt a shudder of desire rip through his body.

“I love you,” he mouthed against Isco’s lips. His face was warm and welcoming after all the cold air Isco had been exposed to.

“I love you more,” Isco said. He just. He found it hard to believe that it had been almost exactly a year since they’d gone on their first summer holiday together. And now – now there they were, two completely different people. One completely different pair.

Franco slowly climbed to straddle Isco, lips becoming sloppier and hands becoming bolder. He started to press his body against Isco’s and Isco couldn’t help but burst into soft giggles.

“What?” Franco murmured, nipping at Isco’s chin.

“Stars turn you on,” Isco pointed out. “You say they don’t but they do.”

“ _You_ turn me on.”

“Uh huh.”

“You do.”

“So do stars.”

“Don’t be jealous of the stars. All the stars in the universe will never shine as bright as you.”

And then he started kissing Isco again and Isco just. Just melted right into his grasp, under his heavy palms and his kind lips. He bent his knees between Franco's legs and thrust his hips upwards, feeling Franco's response as a gasp into Isco’s mouth.

“In bed?” Isco asked. “Your neighbours will see.”

“We’re too high up and they're all asleep,” Franco said.

“Sounds like you've done this before,” Isco said. He felt this little. Little prick of jealousy in his heart. He tried to chase it away. It didn't matter to him. It shouldn't.

Franco pulled away and propped himself up with his elbows on the windowsill. His eyes searched Isco’s face for a while. He looked like he understood. Isco hoped he did.

“Never,” he whispered.

“Really?” Isco mouthed.

Franco nodded. He gently swept Isco’s hair to the side. “Don't like showing people my room.”

Isco keened upwards and found Franco’s lips again, kissing them eagerly and with a sudden breathtaking hunger.

“So, not even…” Isco pulled away just enough to tilt his head at the bed. “Not even in that?”

Franco shook his head and smiled and Isco ran out of gods to thank for giving him such a patient boyfriend.

“You don't have any reason to be jealous of anyone or anything,” he whispered. “Not even the stars.”

Right then Isco remembered he had his head sticking out an attic window, but – but it didn't matter. He felt so warm. He forgot it was winter and he was probably going to freeze his head right off. He was there with his Franco being watched over by their personal starry blanket, and Isco had never felt more complete in his life.

So he wrapped his arms tightly around Franco’s neck and he said, “Make love to me under the stars, Franco Vazquez.”

And Franco did. He made sweet, sweet love to Isco right there under the stars, making the most awkward sex position turn out to be almost the best kind of sex Isco had ever experienced. Sure, it was just Isco sitting on Franco and riding the hell out of him, but Isco looked up and he saw the beauty of the universe that Franco appreciated so much it had become part of him; he looked down and he saw Franco’s beautiful brown eyes shimmer in whatever little light that jumped off them – and Isco thought, maybe he’d died and gone to heaven but he just didn’t know it yet.

He came with his hands braced on either side of the windowsill, chest to chest with Franco, head thrown over Franco’s shoulder as his hips found a life of their own. He came as quietly as he could, the only evidence being a fog of breath as he shuddered and exhaled into the cool night air.

“Don’t get anything on my chair,” Franco murmured sleepily as Isco climbed off him and crouched between his legs. “Or my carpet.”

So Isco scooped the remaining come on his dick along with that on Franco’s abdomen onto his fingers, and shoved them into Franco’s mouth as he lowered his own over Franco’s dick. Franco’s hips lifted off the seat as he bit down hard on Isco’s fingertips, and they continued to do so rhythmically, fucking into Isco’s mouth, almost choking Isco despite all of Isco’s attempts to hold Franco’s hips down.

It didn't take too long for Franco to come, though; Isco felt it, warm and sticky, surprising the hell out of the back of his throat. He pulled Franco out of his mouth, leaving the tip, and lapped at it with his tongue while Franco took his time to spill into Isco’s mouth, filling it with all his come. Isco tried his best to take it all, gulping it down greedily and making sure Franco was clean before he started his path of kisses up Franco’s body, clambering over him and straddling his lap. Franco gave a little whine when Isco accidentally jostled his cock.

Franco glanced up at the sky, leaning out the window, then down at Isco, who was beaming at him. Or at least, he thought he was. Then he threw his head back again with an exasperated sigh that sent a blast of fog erupting into the air above him. “What the fuck,” he said.

Isco laughed. He pressed his cheek against Franco’s chest and wrapped his arms around Franco. “You gonna keep me warm like this every day?”

Franco didn’t respond for a while except to give a little incoherent gurgle. Then he managed to say, “Hell fucking yes.”

Isco ran the tips of his fingers along the contour of Franco’s left breast. “I love you,” he whispered.

Franco kissed the top of Isco’s head and then smoothened Isco’s hair. And kissed it again. “I love you, too.”

“Are you cold?”

Franco shook his head. “You?”

“No,” Isco said. “I’d like a blanket, though.”

“Get one from my wardrobe,” Franco suggested.

So Isco got up and managed to find a blanket in Franco’s wardrobe without messing it up too much. He brought it back and draped it over the both of them, snuggling up against Franco’s chest again.

“What are we doing tomorrow?” Isco asked.

Franco pulled the blanket more tightly around them, wrapping Isco comfortably in his arms. “I’ll take you around. Nothing much in Tanti, so maybe we’ll drive back into the city.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm. You like that?”

“Very many.”

Franco chuckled. He went thoughtfully silent for a while, then, “Remember this time last year?”

“Yeah,” Isco whispered.

“Look how far we’ve come.”

“I was just thinking that, too.”

“Yeah?” Franco asked. He tugged a little on Isco’s hair so Isco was looking up at him. He gave Isco a warm smile.

“We’re not going to stop,” Isco whispered.

“We’re not,” Franco mouthed. He smoothened Isco’s hair.

“We’re _never_ going to stop.”

Franco’s smile grew. He pressed his lips on Isco’s, softly and lovingly, and Isco was hit once again by how different everything was from a year ago.

They stayed up even later just. Just talking. Talking about what they were going to do, not just the next day, but the next year. And the next. They talked about everything they wanted to do in their lives, and they talked about doing them together. They talked about the stars that twinkled above them, watching over them. They made up stories and laughed at how stupid they were.

And Isco thought, he never wanted to be anywhere else; he could never wish to be anywhere else except right there in Franco’s arms, watching the universe revolve around them.


	6. And Every Fair From Fair Sometime Declines, By Chance, Or Nature's Changing Course, Untrimmed

The next day, Franco drove Isco back into Córdoba.

It was a Sunday, so there were plenty of people milling about. Isco was wearing his sweater and had one of Franco’s jackets draped over his arm; Franco had just one jacket on, which was great because he felt like he needed both hands to stop Isco from just wandering off on his own when he saw something interesting. And if by chance he _did,_ Franco would then need two hands to weave through the crowd to find him again.

“Jesus Christ,” Franco muttered when he finally found Isco again, observing a mural in a side alley. “I’d forgotten how frustrating it is to travel with you.”

“It is not,” Isco retorted.

Franco pointed to the map in Isco’s hand. “You have a map. While travelling with a _local_.”

“Fine,” Isco said. He shoved the map in Franco’s pocket.

Franco sighed and followed him as he wandered down the alley. “Can we just go to a proper art museum?”

“There’s a proper art museum?”

“‘Course there is. Rude. I was gonna take you there before you zoomed off on your own.”

“Okay, take me there now.”

Then he clung on to Franco’s arm like a little pest and let Franco just drag him along. Which was good. It meant Franco didn’t have to waste any more energy running after him.

Isco was rather well-behaved when they got to the art museum. He just clutched Franco’s hand and followed the recommended route, staring intently at the art pieces on the wall, all the vintage decor, and practically just anything he could get his eyes on.

“Didn’t know you liked art so much,” Franco remarked.

“I don’t,” Isco said. He squinted at the description of the painting they’d stopped in front of.

“Oh,” Franco said.

“You like art,” Isco continued, eyes lingering on the painting for a while before he turned to Franco. “And old things. And stars. So I like them too.”

Franco smiled. His heart had turned to fucking mush. “You don’t have to,” he whispered.

“But I do,” Isco said earnestly. “I don’t think I’ve ever cared about these things, but. It’s fun. I should care more about them.”

Franco could think of nothing else to do or say other than to wrap Isco up in a tight hug and whisper, “I love you so much.”

“Me, too,” Isco smiled up at him. He looked like he was being squashed to bits but Franco wrapped him up more tightly.

They continued through the museum, Isco now tucked nicely under Franco’s arm. Isco stopped to appreciate every painting and listened attentively when Franco told him stories about them he’d heard when he was a kid. And then, as always, he kept one of the museum brochures as a souvenir.

Franco didn’t really know where to take him, so he brought him down the crowded streets and winding alleys along a random route. He brought him to the park, where they spent most of the day. Isco didn’t stop jabbering away about everything he saw or was interested in. And he was interested in _everything_. Franco had almost forgotten how annoying he was. Or how exhausting it was to be with him.

But even if it sucked all the energy out of Franco, Franco would gladly spent the rest of his life with Isco.

He brought so much colour and energy to everything. He lit up every surface he put his foot on and every object or person he put his eyes on. He saw things Franco didn’t see and he put them into words Franco could never come up with. Franco could listen to him all day and still conjure enough energy to answer all of Isco’s barreling questions.

“Do you like this place?” Franco asked when he could get a word in.

“The park or this place in general?”

“Both.”

Isco turned to Franco and smiled. He nodded.

“I’m glad you like it here,” Franco said softly. “It’s just. You know. I thought you wouldn’t.”

“Why not?”

Franco shrugged. “It’s less...sophisticated than Madrid, I guess. Less developed. More...crowded.”

“Doesn’t make it bad,” Isco said earnestly.

“You think so?”

Isco nodded again. “It’s nice in its own way.”

“It’s just. You’ve always liked shiny things.”

“You do, too,” Isco said. He gave Franco’s hand a squeeze. “You grew up here, Franco. I want to see all of it. I want to learn about all the things you did when you were young. There are many places in this world that aren’t as...nice, or shiny, or developed, as where I come from. But these places don’t mean any less to the people who live and grew up there, and they shouldn’t mean any less to me.”

Franco brought Isco’s hand to his lips, gently pressing them on the back of it. “I like to think this is my influence.”

“What is your influence?”

“You being so thoughtful and mature.”

“I’m always thoughtful and mature,” Isco retorted.

“What do you like the most about this place?”

“The weather,” Isco said almost immediately. “And I like that it’s quiet, and I can look up and see the sky because the buildings are low. And I like how you keep saying you don’t know where to take me but I know you’re taking me everywhere you used to go or everywhere that meant something to you.”

“What do you mean?”

“You brought me to the museum ‘cause you like art. You brought me to the street you used to walk on when you went for practice. You brought me to the park and there were tons of people playing football there so I imagine it’s where you used to go with your brothers. We walked past the university and I know they have an astronomy program and you’d have gone there if you hadn’t loved football more. And I know that it’s hard for you to put these things into words so I am so happy, Vazquez, I’m so happy that I’m here to see them for myself.”

Franco smiled. He turned his gaze to the ground so Isco wouldn’t see him blushing. “How’d you know all that?”

“I guessed,” Isco shrugged. “Am I right?”

Franco nodded, though ironically he wished Isco wouldn’t look at him because Franco felt like something was tugging at his heart and making him want to cry. He blinked a few times. “Yeah,” he whispered. “You are.”

Isco gave a little proud giggle. He swung Franco’s hand as he walked and he started off on another new topic while Franco just struggled to hold himself together next to him. Franco just _loved Isco to bits_ and he wished he could take Isco everywhere he went, he wished Isco would fit in a little box and Franco would take him literally _everywhere_ and Franco would never let him out of his sight. And in turn Franco wished that _he_ could fit in a box so Isco could take him anywhere he wanted. To any corner of the world, Franco would gladly follow Isco.

Winter meant an early sunset, so they returned to the park when it was dark and got into their parked car to wait for Paulo and Alvaro, who were driving in for dinner with them. Isco put on the jacket he was holding. Franco was just fine; in fact, he kinda missed the Argentine winter.

“You’re quiet,” Isco noted. He was munching on another one of those donuts filled with dulce de leche. Franco didn’t dare to look directly at him in fear of accidentally seeing crumbs fall out of his mouth and on Franco’s passenger seat.

Franco shook his head.

“You are.”

“I’m just thinking,” Franco said.

“‘Bout what?”

Franco shrugged.

Isco stopped eating for a while to stare at him. He cupped Franco’s cheek with one of his hands – it wasn't sticky, to Franco’s relief – and leaned over to kiss Franco softly. He tasted like caramel.

Then he pulled away again and continued watching Franco warily.

“What?” Franco asked.

“I always worry,” Isco said quietly. “When you're quiet. When you don't say what you're thinking. I always...get scared. Like it’ll be like the last time.”

“No, hey,” Franco whispered. “It's not like that.”

“I just, I know there are things you want to keep to yourself and I respect that, I respect if you don't want to tell me everything you're thinking –”

“Isco.”

“– but I just. Just get scared.”

“It's nothing like that,” Franco said. “I'm not keeping anything from you. I don't want to keep anything from you. I feel better when you know what I know.”

Isco smiled cautiously. “Yeah?”

“I just – you know. It's a bit overwhelming. That you're here.”

Isco went quiet for a while and Franco thought _God, this is why I never speak._

“Is it like that time when I went to Palermo?” Isco finally asked. “Feels the same?”

Franco closed his eyes and nodded. He clenched his fists around the hems of his sleeves. Isco knew him so well. Isco knew him so well yet he never stopped trying his best to understand Franco even more.

“Does it upset you?” Isco asked.

“No,” Franco whispered. “Hell no.”

“Then it doesn't matter,” Isco said, and when Franco opened his eyes Isco was gazing over at him. “Yeah?”

Franco nodded again. Maybe he could try not to let it matter.

Isco offered him a bite of the donut. Franco refused, but Isco shoved it in his face until he took a bite.

“You wanna talk about it?” Isco asked. “It’s okay if you don’t.”

Franco sighed. “It’s just – this place, and Palermo. A lot of things happened. Some of the worst moments of my life and some of the best. And you know, I feel like my life now is just – it’s divided into before I met you and after I met you. And to have these two parts of my life meet, it’s just. It’s quite overwhelming. You know?”

Isco smiled encouragingly. “Bittersweet?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I wanna learn all about it,” Isco said. “Everything before we met.”

“You will,” Franco promised.

“No matter how long it takes.”

Franco nodded.

“Hey,” Isco continued. “I love you. You know that? Doesn’t matter what happened before you met me. What matters is that you’re here, you’re here now, and I love you more than anything or anyone else.”

Franco leaned over and kissed Isco on the lips. “I love you so much.”

Isco smiled. He gently brushed Franco’s nose with his lips. “What should we do? I’m bored.”

“You’re so easily bored,” Franco pointed out. Paulo and Alvaro were driving into the city for dinner with them; Franco checked the time and dinner was still an hour and a half away.

“I am not,” Isco said. Even though he _was._ He had the _shortest attention span._

“What did we use to do together?” Franco wondered. “Before all this...all these feelings.”

“Have sex all the time,” Isco said matter-of-factly.

Franco laughed. “Well, you wanna do that now?”

“No,” Isco said in mock disgust. “We’re in public, Franco!”

“Never stopped us before.”

Isco gave a little giggle. “Maybe we can kiss a lil bit.”

So they kissed a little bit, except they both did not understand what ‘a little bit’ meant and ended up getting so carried away they might as well have been having sex there at the side of the road.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Franco said after they received their third passing honk. “Maybe that’s a little more than a lil bit.”

Isco licked his lips and then smacked them, the little minx. Then he beamed at Franco. “Let’s drive around for a while.”

So Franco let him take the wheel and drive wherever he wanted, and he drove more slowly than a snail because he wasn’t familiar with the roads. He leaned over the wheel and peered out the window at everything, and Franco was just. Just so entertained and so happy that Isco was having as great of a time as he was. Didn’t matter that Isco got lost along the way and insisted on figuring it out himself, making them almost late to meet Paulo and Alvaro. Didn’t matter one bit to Franco.

Franco spent most of the journey pointing things out to Isco and trying to explain what they meant to him. By the time they drove back and met Paulo and Alvaro outside the restaurant, Franco’s cheeks were already hurting from smiling too much.

\------

There was a long queue outside the restaurant, it being a Sunday night, so no one could blame Alvaro for being all panicky about it.

“So many _people_ ,” he whined softly to Paulo. “Who chose this place?”

“Franco,” Paulo said. It shut Alvaro up. Paulo felt like maybe this was how their whole summer was going to go.

“I have a reservation,” Franco said to the doorman. Alvaro evidently relaxed and Paulo started laughing.

“You knew he had a reservation, didn’t you,” Alvaro said. “You didn’t tell me! You just let me play myself!”

Paulo couldn’t do anything but continue laughing. “You’re the one who’s refusing to read the group conversation,” he finally managed to say. “Good thing you added me back in it or you wouldn’t know anything at all.”

“The wi-fi at your place sucks,” Alvaro said.

“It doesn’t. Your phone sucks.”

“You suck,” Alvaro said, and then stormed off ahead of Paulo, after Isco and Franco. He was a fucking child. A child whom Paulo was willing to take care of for the rest of his life.

They settled in a round booth with a hard leather-cushioned seat. The lighting was dim and the entire place had this rather vintage atmosphere. It was no wonder Franco wanted to eat there. Paulo himself had only been there once or twice. His family did rave over it, though.

“Time for some _authentic_ Argentine cuisine,” Franco announced, opening the menu dramatically. “Not like that crap you try to pass off as Argentine cuisine in Europe.”

“Rude,” Isco said. “Is it really authentic though?”

“You’re in Argentina. There’s no more authentic Argentine food than in Argentina.”

“Isn’t it like, some sort of fusion with Italian and Spanish food?” Isco asked. “In Córdoba? I don’t know, I read that somewhere.”

Franco stared at him for a while, his eyes narrowing. Then he said, “Smarty pants, aren’t you?”

Isco beamed at him, which made him huff in mock annoyance before turning back to the menu. No one spoke while they all pondered over what to eat; well, no one except Isco, that was. He read the menu aloud and chattered away about everything, asking Franco what this or that was, if this was nicer than that, if Franco had eaten this or that – he just didn’t stop talking. Even though all Franco did was nod or grunt agreeably. And Franco didn’t even seem to be annoyed. Paulo knew he’d been annoyed before by things lesser than this.

Paulo glanced towards Alvaro only to see Alvaro already peeking at him, like he was thinking the same. The corners of his lips twitched upwards.

Paulo bit on his bottom lip to keep from laughing. He pondered quietly over the menu and eventually decided on the rice. Alvaro leaned over to ask for some advice. He ended up ordering steak, as always.

They needn’t have worried, though, because when the server came by again Franco practically ordered the entire menu for all of them. He looked excited. And happy. And he kept looking over at Isco to see if Isco was okay with everything, relaxing only slightly each time Isco smiled back at him.

“They remind me of us,” Paulo whispered to Alvaro. “You know, at the start.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro smiled. He was watching them, too. “A lil bit.”

“Maybe even before the start,” Paulo said. “You know, when I moved to Turin and you looked after me 24/7 like some stalker.”

“I wasn’t _like some stalker_ ,” Alvaro said.

“Yeah, yeah,” Paulo laughed. “You weren’t _like_ a stalker. You _were_ a stalker.”

Alvaro slapped him hard on the shoulder.

“What’re you guys whispering away about?” Isco asked.

“About Argentine food,” Paulo lied. He glanced at Alvaro. “This dude’s only been here like, three times. He’s eaten steak every time.”

Alvaro looked horrified that Paulo had betrayed him. He sat there staring at Paulo, his arms crossed on the table, looking terrified that Franco would start ranting at him.

Fortunately – only for Alvaro, because Paulo would’ve been more entertained otherwise – Franco didn’t. He only said, casually, “We have good steak.”

Alvaro smiled at him. He smiled back. Paulo and Isco exchanged a glance.

“What did you guys do today?” Paulo asked.

“Walked around a lot,” Isco said, munching down on the appetizers. “Drove around a little.”

“You like this place?”

Isco nodded. “It’s very...different.”

Paulo laughed. “It sure is.”

A short silence.

“First time we four have sat down for a meal like this,” Alvaro said; his first contribution to the table.

Isco grinned at him. Even Franco managed to crack a little smile. “Yeah,” Isco said. “It’s quite strange. We’ve all known each other so long.”

“It’s not too late,” Franco said, avoiding eye contact with everybody.

“It’s not,” Alvaro said thoughtfully.

There was a pause as they seemed to have a moment. A Franco-Alvaro moment.

Paulo exchanged another glance with Isco. Isco’s lips twitched upwards in a lopsided smirk.

“What did you two do?” Isco asked when their moment slowly turned into an awkward tension.

“Trespassed,” Alvaro said before Paulo could stop him. Franco raised an eyebrow at them. “We went to Paulo’s old training ground,” Alvaro elaborated.

“We go there all the time,” Paulo said. “It’s nothing, It’s empty at this time of the year.”

Franco nodded. “Cool,” he said. “Maybe I could sneak you into Belgrano’s,” he said to Isco.

“You been to Franco’s apartment?” Alvaro asked, again, before Paulo could stop him.

Isco shook his head, then froze. Franco froze, too, and slowly turned to Isco.

“You have an apartment?” Isco asked. “Here? In Córdoba?”

Paulo nudged Alvaro in the ribs. Alvaro whispered a timid ‘sorry.’

Franco nodded slowly. “Yeah, I was, uh. Thinking maybe I’d take you there later. To spend the night.”

“Why does Alvaro know you have an apartment but I don’t?”

“‘Cause Dybala’s a blabbermouth,” Franco said.

“Hey,” Paulo said.

“You weren’t hiding it from me or anything?” Isco asked.

“No,” Franco said.

“Look what you did,” Paulo told Alvaro.

“I said I’m sorry.”

“Too late.”

“I wanted to surprise you,” Franco continued. He sounded sincere and not like he was just making things up to soothe Isco. “You know, after dinner, drive you to my apartment like ‘hey, we can stay here, no need to drive an hour.’”

“Yeah?” Isco asked.

“Yeah. You like surprises.”

Isco smiled. “Okay,” he said.

And that was it. That was literally it. No more questions from Isco, not even a peep.

“Okay, yeah?” Franco whispered. Isco nodded, and Franco pulled him closer and kissed him on the temple before hugging him. He tucked Isco’s head under his chin and glared over it at Alvaro.

Alvaro’s eyes widened. He turned to Paulo for help.

Paulo burst into laughter. Alvaro and Franco interacting would never fail to be a source of entertainment to him. Since his Palermo days five years ago, Franco and Alvaro had always had this. This weird relationship. Even before they had actually even met each other. It was all so strange yet so amusing.

Thankfully right then the food started coming, so they all settled with eyeing each dish that the servers brought and placed on their table, and listening to Franco and Paulo introduce the dishes. Isco got tired of it halfway through and just started digging in while Franco was talking. Franco just sighed and he looked at Alvaro and Alvaro didn’t seem like he wanted to listen any longer so Franco just picked up his utensils and started eating, too. He was being extremely talkative that day. Paulo didn’t remember him talking this much. But then again Paulo hadn’t really hung out with Franco since Paulo had moved to Turin. Much, much less since Paulo had gotten together with Alvaro.

Throughout the night Alvaro began to warm up to the idea of Franco being around. He became livelier and he seemed to forget how irrationally afraid he was of Franco. Which was a good thing. Paulo didn’t want this to be hanging over Alvaro for the entire summer. But if the dinner taught him something, it was that Isco was totally as in on it as Paulo was. The scheming look on his face gave it all away. Paulo knew that he would practically bust his ass off to make sure Franco and Alvaro had fun together.

They were stuffed as fuck by the time the dishes on their table looked remotely clean. They stumbled to their cars, parked across the street from one another.

“My place?” Paulo asked Alvaro.

“Well, my place is over an ocean, so I guess we have no other choice.”

“Fuck you,” Paulo shoved him in the shoulder. “A couple hours with Franco and you’ve become an asshole as well.”

“Hey,” Franco yelled at them from across the street. “Wanna come to my place?”

“Slumber party?” Alvaro yelled back.

“Yeah,” Franco yelled.

“Paulo doesn’t have clothes,” Alvaro hollered.

“I have plenty,” Franco offered.

Paulo caught Isco’s eye. Isco grinned at him. He looked a little proud. Paulo grinned back.

“Maybe we can go get some of my clothes from my place first,” Paulo suggested. “Then meet them there.”

Alvaro yelled out that entire plan to Franco. Franco yelled back an ‘okay.’ Paulo was pretty sure the entire street now knew about their plans for the night.

Anyway, they drove to Paulo’s place, where Paulo stuffed some things into the space left in Alvaro’s duffel, which contained some of his clothes for that night’s stay in Córdoba at Paulo’s place. Then they got back into the car and followed Franco all the way to Franco’s apartment, which was about ten minutes away.

“Finally,” Isco said, kicking his shoes off and immediately collapsing on the couch. “I’m tired,” he said, voice muffled against the couch cushions.

“You’re dirty,” Franco said, walking over and unsuccessfully trying to pull Isco up. “Fuck! Alarcon!”

There was a whole lot of whining but eventually Isco got his jackets off and Franco dragged him inside to show him around.

“Can we, um,” Alvaro gestured to the space Isco had vacated. “Sit? Or will he like, freak out?”

Paulo laughed. “Nah, just don't dirty anything.”

Alvaro sat down cautiously. Paulo sat next to him.

“Alvi,” he said. He took Alvaro’s hand.

“Hmm?”

“I love you.”

Alvaro chuckled. “I love you, too,” he said. “What's up?”

“Nothing, just wanted to say it.”

Alvaro turned to Paulo and smiled a gentle smile. He gave Paulo a loud smooch on the lips and Paulo felt his little heart give a skip and then melt thoroughly into his ribcage. Paulo had a good heart. He had a soft heart. Maybe too soft. But that was the one thing he liked about himself.

“You remember?” Alvaro started softly. “The first time I came here?”

“‘Course I do,” Paulo whispered. He didn’t think he’d ever forget it. _Ever._ Besides, Alvaro made it a point to bring that up every time Córdoba was mentioned. “I’ve never looked at my hostel bed the same way since.”

Alvaro laughed. “I think about it all the time,” he said.

“It’s been so many years.”

A short silence. Alvaro rubbed his thumb in a big, slow circle on the back of Paulo’s hand.

“You gonna ask me what the 2009 Paulo and Alvaro would think about the 2017 Paulo and Alvaro?” Paulo asked.

Alvaro smiled. “Just that if you think they would’ve been proud of us.”

Paulo nodded. “They’d be really proud.”

“Yeah?”

“Prouder than I can ever tell you.”

“Do you think if they knew what would happen in the years between then and now, that they would…” Alvaro shrugged. “That they would have just let it happen the way it did?”

“I don’t know,” Paulo said softly.

“I hope that they wouldn’t have,” Alvaro said. “I hope that...that Alvaro wouldn’t have.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Paulo gave Alvaro’s hand a squeeze. “Yeah?”

“Matters to me.”

Paulo sighed. “I love you so much. I have all these years. Never changed. Don’t think it will.”

Alvaro nodded and smiled. He cupped one of Paulo’s cheeks in his palm. “I know.”

“I love you, Alvaro Morata.”

“I love you, too.”

Then Alvaro leaned in for another kiss, a longer, lingering one, and then they suddenly heard Franco’s muffled voice drifting out from further inside the house, “Stop making out on my couch!”

Alvaro pulled away, his eyes darting around frantically. “How did he know that?”

Paulo burst into laughter. “Probably just guessed.”

Alvaro still looked sceptical. He pulled away, just for good measure. Probably didn’t want to fuck things up so quickly after getting on Franco’s good side. “You been here before?” he asked Paulo.

Paulo shook his head. For all the times he’d been to Córdoba – a couple of times with Franco, even – he’d never actually been to Franco’s apartment or his place in Tanti.

“It looks smaller than my apartment,” Paulo said. “Probably because it’s closer to the middle of the city.”

“Let’s look around,” Alvaro said before hesitating. “Or, like, will he go crazy again?”

“Nah,” Paulo said, grabbing Alvaro’s hand before he could give any more excuses. He hopped off the couch and dragged Alvaro along with him to snoop around Franco’s apartment.

And in those fifteen minutes or so they felt like schoolboys again; they felt like they were transported back to 2009, when they were barely teens and had to sneak around everywhere and do their thing in secret. Running around in the mild Argentine winter with nothing much to keep them warm except each other’s company. Giggling at nothing and being in awe of the slightest ounce of good fortune like part of their subconscious thought that they would never get another chance.

Little had they known that they’d been wrong. They were going to be given hundreds and hundreds of other chances – in fact, it had been up to them to seek out those chances themselves and live them like they always had.

And it warmed Paulo’s heart to know that after all this time, after all their missed chances – he and Alvaro had finally gotten it right again.

\------

Franco’s apartment was pretty tiny. Isco and Franco finished walking around it in like, twenty steps.

“That’s all?” Isco asked.

“What do you mean ‘that’s all?’” Franco asked. He sounded hurt.

“It’s pretty small,” Isco said. “Just being honest.”

“The rooms are big,” Franco offered. He opened a door at the end of the hall. It led to a decent-sized bedroom with a queen bed, a large wardrobe, and an ensuite. There was a big floor-to-ceiling sliding door that led out to a tiny balcony, just enough to fit maybe five standing people.

The chill nibbled gently at them as they stood squashed together on the balcony. Franco draped an arm over Isco’s shoulders and pulled Isco close as Isco shivered a little. Franco laughed. “My Spanish city boy,” he said.

Isco smiled. He pushed his head into Franco’s shoulder. The balcony overlooked the narrow street, and Franco’s apartment was on the fourth floor, higher than all the other buildings on the same street, so they could see to the next one and the one behind it. They could see rooftops and blinking car lights and street lamps. The occasional tree. They could hear dogs barking and faraway cars honking. A big group of guys laughing as they walked down the street.

“No stars here,” Isco noted.

Franco shook his head. “Not in the city.”

Another silence. Isco slid his arm around Franco’s waist, slipping his hand under Franco’s shirt, where it was warm against his back.

“Alarcon,” Franco whispered. It was so soft, it almost got lost with the wind.

“Hmm?”

“About earlier. I wasn’t trying to keep this from you.”

“I know.”

“I wasn’t just trying to save my ass. I really did want to take you here tonight.”

“I know, baby.”

“I would never keep this from you.”

“I know, shh,” Isco gave Franco’s love handle a squeeze. “Let’s not bother about Alvaro.”

“Yeah? You know? Yeah?”

Isco turned to look at Franco. Franco was gazing down at him worriedly. Isco nodded and Franco’s brow only unfurrowed the tiniest bit. He looked. He looked so helpless. Like if the wind grew any stronger, he would just crumble into tiny little pieces.

“Hey,” Isco said. He turned, pulling himself out of Franco’s arms and reaching up to cup Franco’s face in his hands. “You’re good. You’re great, Franco, you’re doing so great. You’re so amazing at this.”

“You think so?” Franco breathed in a hot gust of air against Isco’s cheeks.

“Mmhmm.”

“You’re not just saying that ‘cause you think I need to hear it?”

“Nope.”

“You’re not just saying nope ‘cause you want me to stop asking questions?”

“Franco.”

“Okay. Okay, I’ll stop.”

Isco wrapped his arms around Franco’s waist, turning his face upwards to smile at Franco. “I love you.”

A smile finally lit up Franco’s face. He squished Isco’s cheeks together. His palms were warm and comfortable. “I love you, too.”

Isco made a kissy face at him. He obliged.

And then his phone chimed from his pocket with a notification from Instagram: _alvaromorata tagged you in their story._

Isco opened it and it was a photo of him and Franco practically right at that very moment, standing on the balcony, the roof of the opposite block acting as a backdrop. Franco was squishing Isco’s cheeks and Isco was making his kissy face. It looked like it had been taken from the bedroom door. Across the bottom was the temperature sticker reading six degrees celsius, and Alvaro’s caption _what the fuck are they doing?_ followed by both Isco and Franco’s usernames.

Isco turned around just in time to see Alvaro and Paulo disappear behind the doorframe, soft giggles all that was left of their mischief as they made their escape down the hall.

Franco was smiling and shaking his head when Isco turned back to him. He pulled Isco back inside, where it was warm. They sat on the side of Franco’s bed that was facing the balcony.

“And on this bed?” Isco heard himself asking before he could stop himself. He had no need to know. He didn’t _want_ to know. His subconscious thought otherwise.

Much to Isco’s surprise, Franco shook his head. He didn’t make eye contact with Isco, though, just stared straight ahead out the balcony door.

“Don’t like showing people my room,” he said again, the same reason he’d given Isco the previous day.

A short silence. Not angry or tense, just. Just a silence.

“You were...it was that part of your life, right?” Isco asked softly. “When you were here. In Córdoba.”

Franco nodded. After another silence, he said, “Not here. Mostly...mostly other places.”

He didn’t elaborate. And Isco understood. He really did understand. He knew that Franco thought if he said too much, if he talked to Isco too much about his past, that Isco would want him less. That Isco would realise that Franco wasn’t all that special. Isco knew that despite Franco having promised that he’d tell Isco everything, Franco still had his own doubts. He still needed a ton of time. And Isco was willing to give him forever.

“I don’t like showing people my room,” Franco repeated, like he was now worried that the silence meant that Isco was upset. “Or my place. ‘Cause it feels like I’m showing too much of myself. Like if they see my place, or my room, they’ll know too much about me. And I don’t like people I don’t know well knowing too much about me. It just...just feels uncomfortable.”

“Like you’re not in control,” Isco said.

Franco smiled the tiniest smile. He took Isco’s hand and gave it a squeeze. Franco’s hand was so big it engulfed the whole of Isco’s. “It’s different with you,” he whispered.

Isco smiled back even though Franco wasn’t looking at him. “Didn’t think you’d invite Paulo and Alvaro over,” Isco said.

“They’re okay. I don’t mind them seeing my place. Paulo’s been –” Franco paused, like he wasn’t sure if he was saying too much. Isco returned the hand squeeze as encouragement. It worked. “Paulo’s been...to my place. Palermo. You know.”

Isco nodded. He swallowed the lump in his throat and told himself it didn’t matter. It didn’t matter. For all the emotions Isco had ever felt towards Paulo – which, honestly, he could count on the fingers of one hand – Isco was pretty sure jealousy had never been one of them. Encouragement and indignance and pity, maybe. Joy when he finally got with Alvaro. But never jealousy, even when Isco had begun to fall for Franco.

Another short silence, which was followed by Paulo suddenly poking his head around the door behind them.

“Hey,” he said. “Can we play FIFA?”

“Sure,” Franco said. He stood up and tugged Isco along, only letting go of him to dig in his TV console drawer for the FIFA game, dust his Playstation off, and insert the game. Then he brought Isco to the couch, where there was one seat left, and sat Isco down. He sat on the floor between Isco’s legs, draping them over his shoulders like the straps of a backpack.

They watched Paulo and Alvaro battle it out in FIFA, yelling and wrestling and almost wrecking Franco’s controllers. Franco looked a little sceptical initially but he began to warm up, even occasionally throwing in some banter.

Alvaro eventually beat Paulo, winning the first and third of three games, to everyone’s dismay. They all pelted pillows at him until he threw his controller at Isco. “Your turn,” he said. “Play against Franco.”

So they did, and Isco won the first game, which pissed Franco off a whole lot because he was a competitive piece of shit.

“Can’t play with your feet in my face,” he grumbled. “They stink.”

“Your face stinks,” Isco said.

“I’m gonna beat you,” Franco declared.

And he did, too, in the next game, with a very respectable 4-2 scoreline.

“Told you I’ll beat you,” Franco said proudly. He got up and squeezed into the tiny space left next to Isco. “Scoot the fuck over.”

After some struggling and grumbling Paulo got relegated to the floor. Everyone was quiet throughout the third game, watching intently as they battled out a 1-1 draw and Franco eventually won on penalties.

He said nothing as the game ended and the stats screen appeared. Said nothing. Just put the controller on his lap and slowly turned to Isco with a big, proud, slow smile spreading across his face.

Isco raised his middle finger in Franco’s face. “I let you win,” he said.

“You didn’t,” Franco said adoringly. “You’re shit.”

They bickered for a while and Isco eventually gave in because he was weak for Franco like that. Then Franco fetched his other controllers and they all played together, switching around with their partners. Surprisingly, the Alvaro-Franco pairing fared the best of all. More unsurprising was how much teasing it resulted in.

Around midnight everyone started drifting off to sleep, including Isco. But no one bothered to move, whether to bed or to take a shower. Not even Franco. He just draped himself over Isco, wrapped his arms around Isco like a bolster, and fell asleep.

Isco woke up about two hours later still being smothered by Franco. Paulo and Alvaro were curled up separately on the other end of the couch, like two little hamster balls. Only their feet were touching, like it was the only part of them that required extra warmth.

Isco slithered out from under Franco and turned off the TV, which was still showing the main FIFA screen and playing the soundtrack softly. He removed the disc from the Playstation and turned it off. He cleared all the empty chips bags and sweet wrappers and bowls, bringing everything back to the kitchen. He washed them and put everything away nicely. It took some hunting and inferring to figure out where everything went, but Isco thought he handled it pretty well.  

He was about to return outside and very unceremoniously wake everyone up to take a shower, but he suddenly felt two warm arms slide around his waist from behind and squeeze tightly, followed by a barrage of loud kisses first on his left cheek, then his right.

“Hi,” Isco whispered, flinching when Franco moved to his neck next. Though Isco didn’t mind. He was used to Franco being exceptionally affectionate when he’d just woken up.

Franco nibbled a reply into Isco’s neck.

“Let’s go take a shower,” Isco said.

“Hmm,” Franco mumbled, and _God_ , Isco _loved_ sleepy Franco.

Isco took his hand and wandered in the general direction he thought the bathroom was at. He eventually found it at the end of the hall. He planted Franco in the middle of it and asked Franco to take off his clothes. Franco did so, obediently, after taking a few seconds to process that thought. He looked so adorable with his hair all flattened on the side he’d been sleeping on, and all frizzy on the other.

Isco found some of Franco’s clothes in his closet and brought it back to the bathroom along with some of his own. Franco didn’t look like he was in any state to shower, so Isco brought him into the shower and waited for the water to turn warm before he pulled Franco under it. He scrubbed Franco clean as Franco just stood there, accommodatingly, watching Isco’s hands as they moved everywhere.

“You had a good time today?” he finally asked, like he just really wanted to be sure. Water was trickling off his nose as he gazed over eagerly.

“A very good time,” Isco assured him.

Franco beamed. He shook his hair dry like a little puppy, and then stepped outside and dried himself with a towel. He put on his clothes and he looked so _happy_ , just like showers had always made him. He sauntered outside and woke Paulo and Alvaro up; after five whole minutes of whining from the both of them, they finally got into the shower. Franco dumped their duffel bag in the guest room before returning to Isco, who was sitting in bed waiting.

“Still sleepy?” Isco asked.

“Not really,” Franco said.

They sat in bed silently for a while, doing nothing, saying nothing, just listening to Paulo and Alvaro clanking around. Listening to Alvaro grumbling about literally everything and Paulo not throwing anything at him. It wasn’t even quiet when they got into bed. They shared a wall with Franco and Isco, unfortunately.

“Will we be like that when we’re old?” Franco asked.

Isco smiled, because Franco asking that meant that Franco thought that there was going to be a ‘when we’re old.’

“They’re not old,” Isco pointed out.

“They’re eight years old,” Franco said.

Isco laughed. “They are.”

“I mean that their relationship is eight years old,” Franco added. “But also, yeah. They’re eight years old.”

“We’re going to be really cool old people,” Isco told him.

“Deal.”

Another silence. Isco kinda liked these silences. Especially when he was holding Franco’s hand and Franco was tracing little thoughtful circles on the back of Isco’s hand.

Franco suddenly got up and went to knock on the guestroom door, and Isco braced himself for a lecture about how inconsiderate he thought Paulo and Alvaro were being – but instead he heard Franco ask, “You guys wanna come over to our room?”

There was a short stunned silence from Alvaro and Paulo, and Isco burst into laughter. He was still laughing when Franco returned with Alvaro and Paulo in tow.

“What?” Alvaro asked accusingly.

“Why are you guys so weird?” Isco wondered.

“Fuck you,” Alvaro said. He dove into the bed before Franco could open his mouth to protest. Paulo followed suit. Franco climbed in gently and slid back into his original place under the sheets next to Isco, except now his legroom was being occupied by Paulo. He contemplated kicking Paulo for a moment before settling with sitting cross-legged.

“So,” Paulo said, rolling over on his tummy. “Why the sudden invitation?”

Franco shrugged. “Just thought you guys would be bored.”

“Certainly didn’t sound bored, though,” Isco chimed in.

Alvaro slapped him in the knees. “Yeah, I can’t really sleep.”

“Let’s talk about something,” Franco suggested.

“And what do you suggest that be?” Paulo asked.

“I don’t know, whatever,” Franco waved his hand in a vague gesture. “You guys are the good talkers.”

A beat of awkward silence.

“Tell us about the stars,” Paulo said.

And there was not another silence for the rest of the night. The four of them chatted away, moving on from stars to more mundane things like how Franco was finding it in Spain or how Alvaro looked forward to visiting Córdoba with Paulo whenever he could. Or to Isco finding a preschool for Junior. Or even about how Paulo was dealing with life in Turin without Alvaro and how his teammates asked about Alvaro all the time. Then Paulo and Alvaro did really entertaining impressions of the Juve players which had Isco bent over in tummy-destroying laughter.

Sometimes they sat in a circle, all four of them, but most of the time they fidgeted their way into each other’s spaces and ended up half-hanging off the bed. Isco watched Franco most of the time. He didn’t seem to mind everyone getting all up in his personal space or messing up his sheets or playing around with the things sitting in his room. He looked like he was thoroughly enjoying himself and forgetting how much he cared about all these tiny meaningless things.

The four of them laughed, they laughed and they got serious and they said stupid things and had moments of brilliance, and they had a real and honest talk – but no matter what, as the night went on and on Isco found himself wishing that it would never end. Isco found himself wishing that he could stay right there in the cold Córdoba winter for the rest of his life just doing nothing with his best friends in the world.

The last thing Isco remembered before they all fell asleep in a warm heap on Franco’s bed was how this was one of those nights he was never ever going to forget.

\------

After half a week in Córdoba they flew back to Buenos Aires, where they spent two nights.

It was Isco’s first time there, and only Alvaro’s second if he didn’t remember wrong. It was certainly different from Córdoba; it was a little more developed, and the weather was a little cooler, partly attributed to how close it was to the coast.

Anyway, Isco cooed over everything, as usual. He asked Franco about everything and he listened intently even when Franco started off on some lame history lecture. Fortunately, Paulo did none of that. He just held Alvaro’s hand and followed behind them, watching them with the same amusement Alvaro felt.

The two days were over in a flash, and on the third morning they headed to the airport for their flight to Miami.

Which turned out to be delayed five hours.

And Franco was _pissed._ He was mad pissed. It was honestly really frightening. He sat there fuming and he listened carefully whenever an announcement came on to hear if it was about their flight. None of them were. So the four of them just sat there in a row silently wondering if it was okay to talk. Even Isco looked terrified.

The tension noticeably dissipated when Franco got up to go to the restroom. Isco turned to Paulo and Alvaro.

“Sorry,” he said.

“What's he mad about?” Alvaro asked.

“He just hates when things don't happen on time.”

“He's always been like that,” Paulo said.

“Well, can he like, chill a little bit?” Alvaro asked.

Isco laughed. “Obviously not. It's okay. He’ll get over it.”

“Could you like,” Alvaro waved his hand. “I don't know, try to speed up the process?”

“Yeah, I'll try.”

“Is he the kind who’ll get mad if we don't check off every single thing on our list?” Alvaro asked. “You know, ‘cause he planned the itinerary.”

Isco shook his head. “He just likes to know the nice places and exactly how to get there. Whether we make it there doesn't matter. It matters more that when we want to, we know how to. That's how Franco plans. Last summer we literally decided where to go the night before each day. Even when we flew from Dubai to Vegas. Even the entire trip itself was just impromptu. He’s not a stressful traveler.”

“He's coming back,” Paulo said softly. Surely enough, Franco was heading back. With two jumbo cups of drinks in his hands.

“To destress,” he explained, breaking the tense silence that had suddenly befallen. He passed a cup to Paulo and Alvaro.

Alvaro almost pointed out that the only one among them who needed any destressing was Franco himself, but he decided to keep his mouth shut.

Isco brought Franco to a window-facing bench, where they sat watching planes take off. Franco seemed to relax. He smiled a lot more, at least. He watched the planes Isco pointed at and listened to the stories Isco was probably making up about them. They drank from two separate straws, which was a mystery to both Paulo and Alvaro until Paulo pointed out that Isco seemed to bite his straw a lot.

“This is a little bit creepy,” Alvaro noted.

“Since when do you know what’s creepy?” Paulo asked. He earned himself a shove in the shoulder.

“You know what’s actually creepy?” Alvaro asked. “How much Marco likes Franco. That’s creepy.”

“How much does he like him?”

“Almost as much as Isco. But like, in a big brother way, I guess.”

“What does Isco think about it?”

“He’s mostly just worried that Franco will feel bothered.”

“Hmm,” Paulo said thoughtfully.

“What?”

“Just wondering what he thinks about me,” Paulo shrugged. “I’ve never met him.”

“You have,” Alvaro pointed out. “That time after training and you wanted to surprise me so you flew all the way to Madrid.”

“Only briefly.”

“I’m sure he likes you.”

“How do you know?” Paulo asked.

“‘Course I do.”

“And what about everyone else?” Paulo said, and he suddenly sounded absolutely miserable. “You’ve met my teammates ‘cause they were yours, too. But I’ve never met yours. What do they think about me?”

“They think you’re amazing,” Alvaro said.

“Franco’s such a likeable person,” Paulo continued, oblivious to Alvaro trying his best to reassure him. “And you and Isco are their teammates. Of course they like you.”

“What do you mean Franco’s a likeable person?” Alvaro asked. “What about you?”

“I’m not a likeable person.”

“Paulo,” Alvaro said softly. He reached over and cupped Paulo’s chin, turning Paulo to face him. Paulo gave the tiniest smile. “Hey. Don’t say that.”

“It’s true.”

“It’s not for you to say. Everyone dislikes some parts of themselves. We hate our bad habits, or we hate how our hair grows out, or whatever. I hate the scar on my eyebrow, for example. But it doesn’t mean other people hate it.”

“I like your eyebrow scar,” Paulo said. He reached up and ran his finger along Alvaro’s eyebrow slowly.

“See?”

“It just,” Paulo sighed, dropping his hand back on his lap. “Sometimes it bothers me. Not knowing what people think about me.”

“Why does it bother you?”

Paulo shrugged. “I guess I need a reason not to hate myself.”

After all these years Alvaro had known him, Paulo was still the same. He still battled his self-hatred every single day and Alvaro wished, he wished with all his heart that he could do something about it. Part of him thought maybe the way he’d pushed Paulo away all those years had contributed a massive chunk to it.

He let go of Paulo’s chin and took his hand instead. “I hope I can be part of that reason,” he whispered.

Paulo smiled again, this time bigger, and the mild daylight flooding in through the viewing window bounced off his eyes in angles Alvaro didn’t even know existed. He gave Alvaro the tiniest nod. “‘Course,” he whispered.

Alvaro leaned in closer and kissed him softly on the lips, lingering for a moment. “I love you.”

Paulo’s smile grew into the kiss. He twisted his body so he could rest his other hand on the nape of Alvaro’s neck, where his hairline ended. He ruffled Alvaro’s hair gently between his fingers. “Love you, too.”

“Next time we’re in Madrid, I’ll take you out to dinner with Marco and Lucas and whoever you want.”

“‘Kay,” Paulo said.

“I’m not ashamed of you, if that’s something you’re thinking about,” Alvaro said. “I have never been ashamed of you. You’ve always been my best friend and I’ve always been proud to show you off to the world, that this amazing little dude is _my_ best friend.”

Paulo tucked his head in Alvaro’s shoulder. “I'm so happy,” he whispered.

“Yeah?” Alvaro smiled.

Paulo nodded. “Look at us. The four of us. Who would've thought we’d come so far?”

They sat there and just. Just thought aloud to each other. Talking about everything. Talking about nothing at all. Reminiscing about the years that had gone by so quickly.

The five hours passed like wind, the only way it would ever pass as long as Alvaro had Paulo around to spend it with. It still seemed like afternoon when they heard the announcement that their flight was ready for boarding, had the early evening sunset sky outside the window not given the time of day away.

“ _Finally_ ,” Isco said, bounding his way back to where Alvaro and Paulo were, guarding their carry-on bags. He was dragging a very exhausted Franco, who looked like he had been interrupted in the middle of a peaceful slumber. “Let's get away from this freezing place and get me some vitamin D.”

Franco laughed, despite himself. “You just wanna show off your biceps.”

“I don't.”

“You do. Your suitcase is full of singlets.”

“You wouldn't be saying that if you didn't think I have nice biceps.”

They picked up their bags and walked towards the gate, arguing the entire way. Paulo and Alvaro followed behind them, snickering to themselves.

“Which one’s more fun to watch?” Alvaro asked Paulo. “Me versus Franco or Isco versus Franco?”

“I don't have to choose,” Paulo said gleefully. “Either way, I have the best entertainment.”

Alvaro punched him in the shoulder because, well. He couldn't exactly argue with that.

Paulo spent most of the nine-hour flight to Miami sleeping. Alvaro spent most of the first half of the flight before he dozed off staring out the window. Franco did the same in the window seat in front of Alvaro, as Isco droned on softly about random things next to him.

Alvaro began to realise maybe he and Franco weren't so different after all.


	7. But Thy Eternal Summer Shall Not Fade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'm soooooooo sorry for this super late update. As promised, the chapters are getting really long, so I hope you enjoy them and read them slowly until I can post the next one. Sorry again! Life's been busy.
> 
> I've updated the playlist [here](https://open.spotify.com/user/mandzilkos/playlist/7lK6jq9rJQEg4YQ6DUfa0O), do give it a listen if you want and feel free to lemme know what you think!
> 
> Thank you and enjoy!

When they landed in Miami it was past ten at night. Paulo and Alvaro had slept during the flight, having _no sense of planning_ at all, so they were stumbling around drowsily and led around by Isco and Franco, first to the restrooms and then to the car rental area, where they got themselves a vintage-looking white and teal camper van with retractable backseats so the back was large enough to fit the four of them if they decided to camp somewhere. It had three windows along each side, so it looked like a tiny bus instead of a van. It came with four sleeping bags and a tent.

And then Franco made the joke that Isco’s feet couldn’t reach the pedals, which made Isco all grumpy and he said, “Well, you drive, then,” and that was how Franco ended up driving the van out of the airport with a sulking Isco sitting next to him and a drowsy Paulo and Alvaro in the backseat.

“Come on,” Franco said as they drove into the parking lot of their hotel along the beach. “You can’t possibly still be mad.”

“Challenge accepted,” Isco said.

“Why don’t you scoot over and see if your feet can reach the pedals?” Franco suggested.

He turned the engine off and got out of the van. Isco crossed his arms and stared at him for a while before he reluctantly climbed over the gearshift and settled in the driver’s seat.

He couldn’t reach the pedals.

Franco burst into laughter and Isco glared at him again before adjusting the seat forward and touching his feet to the pedals.

“See?” he said accusingly.

Franco moved to the front of the van. “I can barely see you,” he told Isco. “You look like a child driving.”

Isco waved his middle finger at Franco. There was a soft giggle from the backseat, from Paulo.

“Why are you laughing?” Isco asked. “We’re in the same situation here. Come and try it.”

So Isco got out of the van and Paulo tried it.

“Another child driving,” Franco noted. He received another middle finger.

Alvaro started laughing from the backseat. He ignored Paulo and Isco’s glares and got up to open the back of the van and pull all their luggage out. He dragged his and Paulo’s towards the hotel entrance, leaving Franco and Isco to get their own.

They checked into a room on the tenth floor with two double beds and which overlooked the Atlantic Ocean. But it was dark and there was nothing to see, so Alvaro and Paulo walked straight in and collapsed on the same bed, the one closer to the door.

Franco put his bag in the corner and started exploring the room. It was really big lengthwise, and it led out to a big private balcony from which they could see Miami beach in all its glory lit up at various spots below them, and hear the waves lapping at the shore. There was a warm breeze blowing, ruffling the thin curtains behind the sliding door. Franco stood there for a while trying to picture in his head what it would look like in the daytime.

When he went back inside and shut the door he saw Isco digging around in his luggage for his clothes and telling Paulo and Alvaro he had dibs on the shower.

“How could you just jump into bed like this?” Franco asked. “You’re dirty. You just stepped off a plane.”

“Who the fuck cares,” Paulo said, muffled into the sheets.

“He does,” Isco pointed out.

“Well, I’m showering first,” Franco said. he unzipped his luggage, reached into it, and found one of his pre-packed sets of clothes, his shower set, and his towel. He walked into the bathroom with Isco scurrying after him.

“I said I have dibs!” he was yelling.

“Didn’t hear you,” Franco said. He began taking his clothes off as Isco just stood there helplessly. He stepped into the spacious shower and turned around, and Isco was still just standing there pouting at him. “Well, are you joining me or not?”

A big smile broke out on Isco’s face, like being allowed to take a shower was the best thing that had ever happened to him in his life. He quickly took off all his clothes and stepped into the shower next to Franco, completely ignoring the fact that he hadn’t taken his clean clothes yet. The shower was so big that it wasn’t even a squeeze, so they just carried on normally, flooding the bathroom with the scent of mint eucalyptus as Isco slathered it all over himself like it was his and like they had an unlimited supply. Which was, well. Which wasn’t exactly wrong because Franco had totally foreseen this and he had a full-size bottle of the body wash hidden in his bag. But he obviously wasn’t going to tell Isco that.

Once they were done drying themselves, Franco with his own towel and Isco with one of the hotel’s, Isco just. Just _sauntered_ out of the bathroom like he’d forgotten he was stark naked. He marched all the way to his suitcase and Franco quickly dragged his underwear on and scurried to the bathroom door to watch him.

“What the fuck, Isco!” Alvaro yelled, grabbing a pillow to cover his eyes. “You’re naked!”

His yelling made Paulo turn to take a look, too, and it appeared to be the biggest regret in his life. “Oh my God!” he exclaimed, snatching the pillow from Alvaro because it was the closest one to him.

“I already said he was naked, why did you have to look?” Alvaro asked, hurriedly grabbing another pillow.

“I didn’t think you meant _totally naked,_ ” was Paulo’s very valid defense.

“Well, he is!”

“I know that now!”

Franco would’ve been embarrassed about his boyfriend’s behaviour had he not been too busy being amused. He slowly pulled his pants on as he laughed softly to himself. This bunch. This bunch were the best people Franco could ever hang out with.

“Come on,” Isco said, finally finding the clothes he’d been looking for and pulling them on, too slowly for everyone’s liking. “It’s not like you’ve never seen a dick before.”

“At least we get to choose which dicks we wanna see!” Alvaro pointed out.

“It’s not like _you’ve_ never seen my dick,” Isco said.

“Not like this!”

“Pfft,” Isco scoffed. “Go take a shower. Dirty pigs.”

Franco gathered his things into a little pile next to the sink and left the bathroom for Paulo and Alvaro. He went outside to find Isco sitting in the middle of all the things he had just emptied from his suitcase while he looked for his clothes. Franco sighed.

“You’re telling me you thought sitting on the ground immediately after a shower was a good idea?” he asked.

“Blah, blah,” Isco said distractedly. He started re-folding his clothes and putting them back in his suitcase.

Franco dragged a chair over. He lifted Isco off the ground, dusted his butt off, and put him in the chair. “Five-second rule. You’re still clean.”

“Five-second rule?” Isco mused. “Isn’t that for food? You gonna eat my ass?”

“Isco!” Alvaro and Paulo yelled synchronously from the bathroom. “These walls aren’t soundproof!” Alvaro continued.

Isco giggled. He looked like he was having the _best_ time annoying the fuck out of everyone. Franco helped him tidy up by picking up his clothes and dusting them off one by one before handing them to Isco to fold. Then he helped Isco pack them nicely back into his bag.

“Told you you should’ve let me help you pack.”

“I packed fine. It got all messy because I took everything out in Argentina.”

“Then you should’ve let me help you pack all the way.”

“You wouldn’t have let me bring so many singlets.”

“I would. I like your biceps.”

“Aha!” Isco exclaimed excitedly. “You like my biceps.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Franco said. He crawled into bed and slid his legs under the covers. The clock on the bedside table read 12.17. Franco grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, flicking restlessly through the channels.

Isco climbed in next to him and immediately plastered himself against Franco’s side and closed his eyes. He looked so peaceful that it made Franco drowsy, too. He lay down on his back, wrapped an arm around Isco, and found himself drifting into semi-consciousness.

Paulo and Alvaro emerged from the bathroom about fifteen minutes later. From what Franco could process of their hushed conversation, they appeared relieved that there was, in fact, no ass-eating going on.

Franco fell asleep with the sound of isco’s breathing synced perfectly with the Atlantic waves outside the window on one side, and Paulo and Alvaro’s intimate whispering on the other.

\------

When Isco woke up the next morning Franco was already up, standing at the sliding door with the curtain opened a peek like he was afraid to wake everyone up. The sun had barely risen but it was bright enough that Franco was only a silhouette against the light orange sky beyond him. A couple of minutes later Isco found himself watching Franco’s shoulder blades glide gently over each other under his white t-shirt as he pushed the sliding door open, slid through the tiny crack, closed it, and just stood on the balcony looking at the beach.

Isco was torn between leaving Franco to have some alone time and going outside to join Franco because he really wanted to listen to what Franco had to say about this view.

He eventually decided on the latter.

He rolled over to take a peek at Paulo and Alvaro and discovered that they were still asleep, so he got out of bed and made his way quietly to the sliding door. Franco turned a little when he heard the door open, and then gave Isco the warmest smile.

“Hey,” he whispered as Isco wrapped his arms around him from the back.

“Morning, beautiful,” Isco cooed. He couldn’t exactly see any of the view from where he stood behind Franco, so he pressed his cheek into the groove between Franco’s shoulder blades.

Franco laughed softly. “Morning, beautiful yourself.”

Isco smiled. He let Franco drag him in front so he could see, and then wrap his arms around Isco’s waist. The wind ruffled his bedhead and Franco kissed the top of it tenderly. Isco waited for him to speak, if he wanted to.

“The ocean never seems to end,” Franco eventually said.

“Mmhmm,” Isco murmured. “That’s ‘cause the earth is round.”

Franco laughed. “Smarty pants, aren’t you?”

“Very smart.”

A calming silence.

“Sometimes I think about how I made it across this ocean,” Franco said softly. “To Europe. Where I met you. And I imagine what it would’ve been like if I hadn’t made it over. I would never have met you.”

“I’m not the best thing that’s happened to you in Europe,” Isco said.

“You are.”

Isco didn’t believe that.

There was another silence, punctuated only by the ocean waves and the sound of early beachgoers floating up from below them.

“The ocean reminds me of you,” Isco said.

“Yeah?” Franco asked, sounding intrigued. “Why?”

“Blue is your colour.”

“You think so?”

“Mmhmm.”

“What kind of blue?”

“Every kind. They’re all calming. Like you are.”

Franco’s lips were upturned when they landed on Isco’s temple.

“What colour do you think I am?” Isco asked.

Franco gave that a beat of thought, then, “You’re red.”

“Yeah?”

“Red like fire.”

Isco turned his head to look at Franco and Franco was smiling the most _earnest_ smile down at him. Isco smiled back and Franco leaned in for a kiss without a second thought. He pulled away a second later with a grimace. “Forgot ‘bout that,” he said.

“So I’m the fire to your water?” Isco asked.

“Mmhmm,” Franco smiled. “The chaos to my calm.”

Isco puckered his lips. “Kiss.”

“No. Brush your teeth first.”

“C’mon. Pleeeease.”

“No,” Franco said again. He pushed Isco back inside and towards the bathroom. “Brush your teeth.”

“You’re not transparent, you know,” said Paulo, who was half-awake and lying in bed with Alvaro resting on his stomach. He was watching the morning news. Or trying to, since Isco was standing between him and the TV.

“Grumpy in the mornings, aren’t you?” Isco remarked.

“What do you mean ‘in the mornings’?” Franco asked. He got a high five from Isco before they headed to brush their teeth together.

Isco caught Franco’s eye in the mirror as he scrubbed away at his teeth. Franco smiled a lopsided, toothpaste-spilling smile that melted all of Isco’s insides.

“You know what I’d give to do this every day?” he asked after he’d rinsed his mouth. “To wake up next to you and get to say good morning to you, and brush my teeth with you?”

Franco spat his toothpaste out and rinsed his own. “What?”

“Everything. I'd give my whole life.”

Franco smiled. He pulled Isco by the waist and hugged him close, only their chests and faces apart. “Then you'd have nothing, silly.”

“I'd have you. I don't need anything else.”

Franco’s smile grew. His gaze wandered around Isco's face, like he didn't know what to say. His hands moved gently in Isco’s hair, where they'd migrated from Isco’s waist. They were still a little damp.

Sometimes, Isco felt like. He felt like he was being too childish. He wore all his emotions on his sleeve and he spoke too much about them and part of him thought that maybe he was making Franco uncomfortable. He had big dreams for the both of them and it killed him to think that Franco might not feel the same way, simply because Franco wasn't as adept at saying it. Isco felt like he was thinking too far ahead and he was making all these big assumptions and these grand claims which could easily be misunderstood as puppy love. Which could be easily misunderstood as Isco and Franco only being in their honeymoon phase.

But then sometimes Franco would look at him the way he was right then – eyes eager and shining like he not only heard every word Isco said or did not say, but also _saw_ them like images, like galaxies in his mind. Lips curled upwards like it was their permanent conformation around Isco. Cheeks and temples dimpled with the happiness that permeated them.

And Isco would just _know_ that the reason Franco never said words like Isco did was not because he didn't love Isco, but only because he didn't know how to say them.

Isco could make all the grand claims he liked. Franco was going to keep them safely and Franco was going to make all of them happen. He was going to stay until they did.

“I love you,” Franco whispered; the only three words he seemed to know how to say. The only three words that would ever matter to Isco. Because what Franco never said was so much more than what he did.

“I love you, too,” Isco whispered back.

Franco hooked his thumbs under Isco’s ears, his fingers grabbing the sides of Isco’s head. The pads of his thumbs were a little cold and sticky as he ran them along Isco’s beard line and up his cheeks.

“I want to give you everything,” Franco half-whispered, half-mouthed, like he was afraid. Afraid that he couldn't live up to it.

But Isco knew he would. He knew Franco would. _Franco already was._

So Isco simply nodded. He nodded and he smiled and Franco pressed his head against Isco’s in relief. Relief that Isco understood. Relief that Isco was willing to take whatever he could get, no matter how little of it Franco thought he was giving.

Isco kissed him again. He tasted like peppermint this time.

Isco wanted to wake up to this taste every morning for the rest of his life.

\------

Paulo and Alvaro were still lazing around in bed when Isco and Franco were going out, so they headed out on their own to the beach after slathering on a huge load of sunscreen. How could they bear to miss even one second of the endless beach below them? Franco didn’t understand. He was all up for just spending the entire day lazing around in the white sand.

Fortunately, it was a clear day. Unfortunately, it was hot as fuck.

Isco started complaining about it the _moment_ they stepped out of the hotel doors, the very instant the humid air hit his face. He whined all the way down the sand, loudly and embarrassingly, and he was wearing a pair of bright flowery shorts which didn’t actually help in keeping the both of them discreet. So Franco tried to keep a distance, thinking maybe people would think they weren’t walking together – but that plan backfired when Isco started yelling so Franco could hear him.

“Jesus,” Franco muttered, returning within Isco’s one-kilometer whining radius. “You complained of the cold in Buenos Aires. Now you’re complaining about the heat. I don’t know what you want.”

Isco finally shut up when his feet touched the water. He gave a relieved sigh and stepped forward until the water was up until his knees, lapping against the hems of his shorts. He stood there for a while before he started walking again, until the water soaked his shorts all the way up, making them stick to his thighs. It sort of irked Franco to have wet shorts, so he hiked his up as far as they would go before he followed Isco.

“How far do you think we can get?” Isco asked when Franco stopped next to him.

“Don’t you even try,” Franco warned.

“But how far?”

“Until the sharks come and get you.”

And Isco looked genuinely afraid, which made Franco feel a little guilty. But also amused. Mostly amused.

“You wanna go for a swim?” Franco asked. “I’ll look after your things.”

“Come swim with me.”

“Who’s gonna take care of our things?”

“Whatever, just leave them.”

But Franco couldn’t just _leave them_ , so he dragged Isco along until they found lockers they could rent. Isco kept his flowery shorts on while Franco changed into the swimming shorts that he had been wearing underneath his shorts. They dumped everything else in the locker and headed back to the water.

They spent the next hour or so just wading around in it, seeing how far they – or rather, just Isco – could go. Then they tried to see who could float on water better – Franco won that competition, because he was less muscular than Isco and Isco would just keep sinking every time he tried to get on his back. Needless to say, Isco wasn’t terribly happy about that.

A startling amount of time was spent cuddling, thanks to Isco; he even pulled Franco all the way out so they could make out without being disturbed. Both above water and under. Which was a little romantic, if Franco were to be honest, but that escalated into another competition about who could hold their breath longer underwater, and Franco lost that, so. The romance became a moot point.

“Kiss me again,” Isco requested as Franco tried to clear the water that had gone up his nose.

“No,” Franco said.

“Are you mad that you lost?”

“No,” Franco said again. Even though, well. He kinda was.

“You’re mad. Franny’s mad that he lost.”

“Don’t call me Franny when I’m mad.”

“Aha! You’re mad.”

God, Franco could never win. He ended up letting Isco kiss him until ‘he was no longer mad,’ per Isco’s words. The dramatic little shit.

Unfortunately, that meant that Isco was a little – well. “I’m a little horny,” he said.

“No!” Franco exclaimed. “Isco Alarcon! I’m not going to have sex with you in the middle of the ocean!”

“You _say_ that.”

“Not just saying it,” Franco said, although, well. He actually thought it would be a little fun to fuck around in the water. But his public consciousness told him otherwise.

They eventually waded back closer to shore so they could sit in the water. The sun was rising steadily and shone down rather piercingly on their backs.

Isco slicked his wet hair back on his head. He wiggled his toes a little, and through the clear water Franco could see plumes of sand float up and settle again.

“I’m hungry,” Isco said.

“It’s like hungry and horny are your only two moods,” Franco pointed out.

Isco nodded eagerly like he’d also just figured that out for himself. “And happy. The three Hs that matter the most.”

Franco smiled. “You’re happy now?”

“You make me happy,” Isco leaned his cheek on Franco’s shoulder as he gazed up at Franco. “And horny. And hungry.”

But it was way too late for breakfast, at the hotel or anywhere else, so lunch it was. They washed themselves off at the public showerhead and put all their clothes back on before wandering down the road to find someplace selling a good lunch.

They ended up in an outdoor table of a cozy little diner that overlooked the beach road. Franco got himself some fish and chips while Isco got a burger and three side dishes to share. Franco remarked that he probably wasn’t even that hungry, but Isco just said ‘challenge accepted’ again and proceeded to wipe most of the plates clean.

They spent the afternoon just walking around trying to digest their huge meal. They went to the mall and walked around without buying anything, and then took random turns along each street until they miraculously ended up where they’d started.

“Where should we go next?” Franco asked. “Should we call Paulo and Alvaro?”

“Oh my God!” Isco suddenly yelled from a few meters behind Franco. Franco hadn’t even noticed him walking so slowly. “Franco, look!”

Franco squinted up at the building sign that Isco was pointing at. The wind was blowing Franco’s hair in his eyes and rustling the palm trees along the road, and in Franco’s confusion he thought Isco was just pointing at the Starbucks at the street corner across the road so he was about to yell at Isco about there being Starbucks in Spain as well – and then he saw what Isco was actually pointing at.

 _World Erotic Art Museum,_ the letters wrapping the building corner read.

“ _No,_ ” Franco said, more in disbelief than as a rejection to Isco’s idea. “No.”

“We’re going in there,” Isco said.

Franco furrowed his brow. Before he could even _react_ any more, Isco checked both sides to see there weren’t any cars, dashed across the road, and scurried towards the building entrance.

“Isco!” Franco exclaimed, running after him. “Isco Alarcon!”

“We’re going inside!” Isco yelled, his voice sharp in the wind. “I’m gonna see some dicks!”

“Alarcon!” Franco said with an exasperated sigh. “Well, wait for me, won’t you?”

Isco stopped right in front of the glass doors that read, again, the same four words. _World Erotic Art Museum._ Franco eventually caught up with him as he stood there beaming and looking really fucking proud of himself. “We’re going inside,” he said again, just to confirm.

“Okay, okay,” Franco said, resigned. “Hold my hand and don’t run anywhere.”

And Isco listened. He clutched Franco’s hand obediently as they got themselves tickets and started the self-guided tour. The place was bigger than it looked on the outside, with many different sections and works, and the entire tour turned out to be more educational than anything else. And Franco wasn’t only thinking that because he was being a nerd or anything; Isco actually started asking legitimate questions about the pieces. Not just to Franco, but also to the curators. And they were good questions. Not ones like ‘has anyone ever had sex with these sculptures?’ Isco respecting and admiring the works of art – it moved Franco more than anything else Isco had ever done.

“This place is so fucking cool,” Isco said when they’d stepped outside the front door, after he’d made Franco take a photo of him with the sign.

“Yeah?” Franco smiled.

“Did you like it?”

“I did, yeah.”

Isco grinned. “Good,” he said. He hooked his arm in Franco’s as Franco led them back towards the sound of the waves.

“I’m very proud of you,” Franco said.

“Yeah? Why?”

“Just. Just proud.”

Isco smiled this. This warm smile that Franco felt in his heart. “Okay,” he whispered, like that was enough and he didn’t need any further elaboration.

“What do you think the two idiots are doing?” Franco asked.

“Probably still in bed,” Isco said. He got out his phone and texted them, _Are you still in bed?_

 _We just got out_ , Paulo replied. _Now we’re at the beach._

“Jesus,” Franco said. “It’s half past four.”

 _What are you gonna do?_ Isco asked.

_We’re going for a swim then a spa. They’ve a two-hour massage. Meet you for dinner later?_

_Ok cool text us._

Isco returned his phone to his pocket with this terribly mischievous look on his face.

“What?” Franco asked.

“They’re out of the room,” Isco said. “Let’s go back and fuck.”

And then he dashed ahead of Franco again, giggling loudly. Franco quickened his pace and pounced on him from behind, hugging him around the waist and leaning over his shoulder so he almost fell forwards.

“Have you been thinking about this the entire day?” he asked. “Hmm? Were you just pretending to be a good boy, all mature and attentive in the museum, when in fact you were just thinking about this? Hmm?”

“No,” Isco squirmed around, and he had this slight blush in his cheeks that told Franco he was lying. “I was really interested! I was really curious. I wasn’t horny this whole time!”

“You were, too.”

“Okay, I was,” Isco said, throwing his arms in the air. “But I wasn’t just pretending to be interested! And it’s all your fault ‘cause you wouldn’t fuck me in the ocean!”

“Now it’s my fault, huh?” Franco smiled as he kissed the side of Isco’s neck, nibbling and making Isco squirm even more. “Huh?”

“It’s always been your fault.”

“Is it?” Franco asked. He continued nibbling at that same spot. “Is it?”

“Stop it,” Isco giggled, and then when Franco didn’t stop, pulled himself out of Franco’s grasp.

He grabbed Franco by the front collar of his t-shirt and dragged him into the nearest side alley five steps ahead of where they’d been standing. A few more steps into the alley later Isco slammed Franco against the wall, knocking all the air out of his lungs. He pounced on Franco and let his lips crash against Franco’s, hard and wet and desperate, like he’d been waiting the entire day to do it. He shoved his tongue into Franco’s mouth and gobbled up the gasp that Franco produced. He wrapped one leg around Franco’s waist and _God,_ he already had a fucking semi and Franco could fucking feel it rubbing against his abdomen. He buckled and gasped into Franco’s mouth when Franco gave his thigh a squeeze.

“You’re telling me you don’t wanna get with this?” Isco breathed in the three milliseconds during which he surfaced for air.

“God, I do,” Franco groaned, thrusting his hips forward a little, sloppily grabbing Isco’s other thigh and futilely attempting to wrap it around his waist. “Fuck. I do. I wanna.”

But Isco just didn’t _stop_ lathering himself all over Franco, like he’d decided in that moment that making out with Franco was worth more than all the time it was going to take them to get back into bed. Soon it was more teeth and tongue than anything else and. And Franco just. He felt like he could practically just come right there and then.

“Let’s go back,” he whispered. “I’m not gonna have an orgasm in this dirty alleyway.”

“Means you’re gonna have an orgasm later?”

“‘Course I will. Always do with you.”

“God,” Isco sighed. He pressed his lips on Franco’s again. It sent a violent shiver up Franco’s spine. “I could just kiss you until I come.”

“Well, don’t.”

“Let's go back,” Isco urged. “Take me back. I can't walk with my boner.”

And he unwrapped himself from around Franco and grabbed his crotch and hopped around a little like he needed to pee, and honestly it was so _endearing_ and Franco couldn't help but start laughing. He bent over a little and gestured for Isco to get on his back.

“C’mon,” he said. “I'll carry you home.”

“Yeah?” Isco said, but before Franco could confirm, he charged at Franco and jumped on Franco’s back. “Ow! I squashed my boner.”

“Stop talking about your boner in broad daylight or I'll drop you.”

“My mom already dropped me when I was a baby. Or Alvaro keeps saying.”

“He might not be wrong. It would explain a lot of things.”

Isco whacked him hard on the head.

Franco made his way as quickly as he could down the organized avenues in the direction of the beach, from which he knew would be easy to find their hotel. Who knew? Franco could be utterly lost for all they knew. Franco could be wandering in the exact opposite direction from which he had meant to go.

But as the wind wheezed through their hair, carrying Isco’s delighted laughter with it, distorted as he bounced along on Franco’s hips; as the same wind rustled the palm trees that lined every boulevard, shocks of green decorating the beach-side city that would have otherwise reminded Franco of Córdoba; as they rounded each new corner and found the waves growing louder – Franco knew that in those moments, he was the happiest he had ever been.

\------

Just before dinnertime Paulo and Alvaro returned to the room to get a change of clothes. They hadn't heard from Franco and Isco for a while, so they assumed they could chill a bit until either one of them decided to reply their messages.

“Did they reply?” Alvaro asked, digging in his pocket for the keycard. The ‘do not disturb’ sign still hung on the doorknob because Franco had some sort of aversion to hotel staff being in the same room as his stuff.

“No,” Paulo said. “What do you think they're doing?”

“Don't know, probably just got distracted by something.”

Paulo laughed. “They would, wouldn't they?”

“Hey, where's our card?” Alvaro asked. “I can't find it.”

Paulo stuck his hand in his pocket, and. “Oh. It's here.”

He giggled when Alvaro glared at him.

The room was rather quiet when they got the door open, so Alvaro thought Franco and Isco were really just out somewhere, maybe in the water where they didn’t have their phones.

That was until he saw the tangle of limbs half-hidden under the sheets that were slipping off the bed, and the two bodies those limbs belonged to, gleaming under what little light the room had.

It didn't really hit Alvaro at first, despite literally seeing Isco’s feet in the air, hooked over Franco’s shoulders, and hearing the both of them just suddenly moan together softly. He blinked once as his slow brain tried to figure it out, misunderstanding the fact that neither Isco nor Franco turned as an indication that he had time to process it.

Franco turned right as Alvaro’s gaze drifted up to their faces. His eyes met Alvaro’s and Alvaro _swore_ he could see Franco’s pupils dilate, the passion in them very abruptly being replaced by the deepest shock.

And at the very same moment, Paulo grabbed Alvaro’s elbow with a death grip and said in the _softest, most terrified_ whisper, “Oh, shit.”

Then he dragged Alvaro back out the door and shut it. His face was white as a sheet as he turned to Alvaro again, mouth opening and then closing with nothing to say, like a fish out of water.

“I'm –” Alvaro started, but had no idea how to continue. He stopped.

“Did you see that?” Paulo asked, still in a whisper.

“‘Course I fucking did, Paulo,” Alvaro whispered back frantically. He threw his hands over his eyes. “I made eye contact! I fucking made eye contact with fucking Franco Vazquez _while he was fucking_!”

Paulo gave this gurgle like he wasn't sure if he was supposed to laugh or cry. “Maybe we can wait like, five minutes, and then walk in and they'll be done and we can pretend nothing happened.”

“ _I made eye contact,_ ” Alvaro repeated, because Paulo didn't seem to get it.

“It's okay. It's okay,” Paulo said. _It wasn't._

“What am I going to do?” Alvaro asked. He rubbed his eyes but the image of Franco and Isco having sex didn't go away.

“What do you think they're doing?” Paulo asked. There was a soft thud like he’d pressed his cheek to the door. “Can you hear anything?”

Alvaro put his ear to the door. He didn't take his hands off his eyes. There was some sort of rustling on the other end.

“I don't really hear anything,” Alvaro said.

By the time their ears registered the footsteps pounding to the door it was already too late. They tumbled into the room when Isco opened the door, Alvaro falling on the ground by Isco’s feet because he still had his hands over his eyes and couldn't see anything.

“Are you naked?” Alvaro called, stumbling to his feet. “Paulo, is he naked?”

“He's wearing, um. He's wearing Franco’s boxers,” Paulo informed.

“Okay,” Alvaro said, trying to ignore how _specific_ that was. He peeked through his fingers and saw Isco just staring at him, the mildest smirk on his lips. “Cool.”

“Come on,” Isco said. “You guys can come in now.”

Paulo walked in ahead of Alvaro, who was still peeking through his fingers. Isco climbed back into bed next to Franco, who now had the sheets wrapped around him but was crouching on the bed on his knees with his butt stuck high in the air and his cheek pressed into the pillow, facing away from everyone.

“What's up with him?” Paulo asked.

Isco laughed. He turned over on his front and wrapped an arm around Franco, resting his face on Franco’s back. He gave Franco’s shoulder a pat. “He thinks he fractured his dick.”

“You didn't have to tell them that,” Franco groaned, muffled into the pillow.

“I agree with him,” Alvaro said.

“But you did say it,” Isco said. “You pulled out so quick I don't think it’s gonna stop burning for the next three days. And then you grabbed your dick and you said ‘fuck, I think I broke my dick.’”

The three of them gave a coordinated groan.

“And what's your point of telling us this?” Alvaro asked.

“I don't know, to fill you in on the seven seconds you missed.”

“Well, we don't want to be filled in.”

“Good for you, but you didn't have to interrupt me while _I_ was being filled in.”

“Jesus Christ, Alarcon,” Franco groaned again.

“What?” Isco said adamantly. “I've known you lot a thousand years. And it's not like we don't all know what it's like to have gay sex.”

“Well,” Paulo cleared his throat. He made a vague gesture with his hand. “Do you guys, uh. Do you wanna finish? We can...uh. Leave.”

Isco gave Franco a glance. Franco didn't budge. “Nah,” Isco said. “It’s fine. Let's go for dinner.”

“We’ll go change in the bathroom,” Paulo said. “You two can, uh, maybe...tidy up.”

“Mmhmm,” Isco said, then started murmuring to Franco as Paulo and Alvaro grabbed fresh clothes and headed to the bathroom.

Once inside, the haunting image of Franco’s terrified yet lustful eyes popped up in Alvaro’s mind again. Alvaro sat down on the closed toilet with a loud sigh.

“What?” Paulo asked, dragging on some jeans. He sounded a little amused.

“I made _eye contact_ ,” Alvaro said.

“You've said that three times, Alvi.”

“Well, I did! And now I can never unsee it!”

“C’mon,” Paulo said, pulling Alvaro’s pants off and handing him his jeans. “It's not like you’ve never watched porn. You know, the kind where they look into the camera.”

“Well, they didn't see me looking at them! And they're not my friends!”

“Neither is Franco,” Paulo said, and then burst into laughter when Alvaro glared at him. “I'm kidding, I'm kidding.”

“At this rate we're never gonna be friends.”

“You didn’t see his dick, did you?”

“God, no.”

“Isn’t that a good thing? Would you rather have seen his dick or his eyes?”

“At least his dick won’t look back at me!” Alvaro exclaimed. “And his butt. Although. Although his butt looks at me, too. When I close my eyes, I see his freaking butt!”

Paulo started laughing again. “Think of it this way,” he said. “Better Franco than Isco. ‘Cause you know if it was Isco, he’d never shut up about it.”

And that was true, so Alvaro could only sigh again and agree.

When they got back outside Isco and Franco were already half-dressed, Franco with his t-shirt and underwear on, and Isco now with a shirt on in addition to the boxers. Franco was sitting at the edge of the bed, facing the balcony, holding his jeans in his hands. Isco was kneeling in between Franco’s legs, his hands softly squeezing the tops of Franco’s thighs. He looked concerned. Franco was frowning.

They seemed to be having some sort of moment, so Paulo and Alvaro sat down on their own bed and took out the brochure they’d taken at the spa and started looking for the next package they were going to get, because the massage they’d had was the best two hours of their lives.

Ten minutes later everyone was ready, so they headed out for dinner.

It was silent between them as they walked down the hallway to the elevator, only their flip-flops thudding against the carpeted floor.  Alvaro pressed the down button when they got there, then they just stood there in a vague circle and stared at their feet.

“You guys think it’d be good if we changed rooms?” Isco suddenly asked.

Paulo and Alvaro turned to look at him. Franco’s eyes remained on the ground.

“Why?” Alvaro asked.

Isco shrugged. “Maybe, uh. More privacy? Not just for us, but for you guys too.”

“That’s a good idea, yeah,” Paulo said.

A short silence.

“We’re not mad,” Isco added. Franco contributed a nod.

“Cool,” Paulo said. He slowly reached for Alvaro’s hand and gave it a squeeze as the elevator dinged and they stepped inside. There was no one else, which was good. “Maybe we can get two adjoined suites.”

So they went to reception and requested for a change of rooms, and they got two suites linked by a door on one of the higher floors. Both rooms had ocean views. Isco and Paulo did most of the talking. Franco just stood at the side and provided his credit card when it was needed, since the room had been registered under his name.

It turned out Alvaro didn’t need to worry about the eye contact thing at all, because Franco made absolutely _no eye contact_ with _anyone at all_ throughout the night.

They went back to their room and packed all their things for the shift, which was to two king suites three floors up. They dumped all the things in the rooms, did a quick check, and then left again in their van.

They drove down to South Beach, with Franco at the wheel again – Alvaro bet it was because then he would have an excuse not to look at anyone – and scoured the streets for a nice place to eat. All of that while Isco googled everything on his phone and gave reviews about everything, speaking so quickly Alvaro thought his tongue was gonna fall out.

After a half hour of driving around South Beach alone, they settled for a steakhouse because Isco couldn’t stop raving about the good reviews. The van was finally quiet as Franco found the way back to it, the GPS squawking instructions at him.

“Do you still see his butt when you close your eyes?” Paulo asked lowly.

Alvaro closed his eyes. “Yes.”

Paulo laughed, and then, to Alvaro’s absolute _horror_ , leaned into the gap between the two front seats and asked Franco, “Does your dick still hurt?”

Franco startled and hit the brakes, then slowly turned and narrowed his eyes at Paulo without making direct eye contact. “Why do you ask?”

“Just concerned,” Paulo said. He gave Alvaro a glance and Alvaro _immediately knew_ what was coming next.

“Pau, don’t you dare –”

“Alvaro sees your ass every time he closes his eyes.”

“Paulo!”

Isco burst into loud laughter and Franco turned his glare to him. He crossed his arms and fumed when the laughter didn’t stop. “Well,” he said. “It must be one fine ass to leave an impression like that.”

Isco’s laughter grew louder. It was joined by Paulo’s. Paulo turned to Alvaro again, this time in glee, so delighted that he was able to entertain Isco.

A car started honking at them to move their asses, so Franco continued driving. The steakhouse was just around the next corner.

They had no reservations so they had to wait a little while, but the time passed quickly with light-hearted conversation. Well, as light-hearted as Franco could get without making any eye contact whatsoever. Alvaro even managed some entertainment by staring at Franco and seeing if Franco would budge. He didn't.

Franco excused himself to the restroom after they’d ordered a huge feast for themselves.

“You think he's mad at us?” Alvaro asked once Franco was out of earshot.

Isco shook his head. “He's not.”

“How do you know?”

“He said so,” Isco said, like that alone was enough.

“Was he the one who suggested the room switch?” Paulo asked.

“Yeah,” Isco said.

“He seems a little upset,” Alvaro added.

“Nah, he's just embarrassed,” Isco waved his hand. “You know how it's like when he's embarrassed.”

“Mmhmm,” Paulo said.

“Maybe if we stop talking about it, pretend it didn't happen,” Isco said, and then suddenly just burst into laughter by himself. “Shit, that literally has zero chance of happening. I'm never going to stop talking about this for the rest of my life. I mean, he’s probably jerking himself off in the restroom right now.”

“You think so?” Alvaro asked. He was actually afraid to know the answer.

“No, I'm kidding. Don't tell him I said that.”

“I hope he isn’t regretting letting you invite us along on this trip,” Alvaro said.

Isco’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, you had to have asked him first, right?” Alvaro elaborated. “Before you invited us. He must’ve said yes to your idea before you asked us.”

Isco blinked a few times, then said, “No. It was his idea. He’s the one who asked me to invite you because he was too shy to do it himself.”

A moment of silence.

“So he asked you to invite us?” Paulo asked because Alvaro was still too shocked to open his mouth.

“Yeah,” Isco said softly. “It was just gonna be us two, but Franco said the two of you have had shitty summers since you met, so he said maybe we could all go together and have a great time and we could help you guys make this summer a not-so-shitty one.”

“He said all that?” Alvaro squeaked.

“He gave up your first summer alone as an official couple just so you two could look after us?” Paulo continued.

“Mmhmm,” Isco said. “Hey, don’t talk about this in front of Franco, okay? At least not today. He’s already feeling embarrassed enough.”

“Yeah, sure.”

Another moment of silence later, Franco returned to the table.

Isco asked him what they were going to do the next day, so Franco recited his mental list of places to go in the Miami beach area. He began to open up as dinner progressed, responding more jovially to Paulo and Alvaro, and even smiling. They all shared a hearty conversation over their steaks and the seafood tower Isco had been so recklessly eager to try.

And Alvaro. Alvaro began to see Franco in a different light. The relationship between Alvaro and Franco had been shaky from the start, if they could even say they had a relationship. Alvaro’s goal whenever Franco was around was simply just to get through it. He thought Franco didn’t like him. Franco certainly seemed to only ever try to tolerate Alvaro, and nothing more. Sure, they had their moments flying over from Madrid, but that had been the complete extent of it. Alvaro thought maybe Franco was just putting in an effort to make his boyfriend’s four-piece summer holiday idea a success. He hadn’t had the slightest idea that Franco had been the one who had wanted this in the first place.

So maybe Franco wasn’t the cold-hearted person Alvaro had made him up to be. Over the years Franco _had_ showed Alvaro little bits and pieces of how warm a person he actually was inside – explaining to Alvaro how he was hurting Paulo, helping them out at the press conference, showing his soft side every time it came to Isco, listening to Alvaro talk about love and helping him figure out his relationship with Paulo, and now even sharing his summer with Paulo and Alvaro because he wanted them to be okay – but somehow, some part of Alvaro just didn’t want to believe that Franco was anything other than the brick wall he had so easily convinced Alvaro he was, starting back in 2012.

Maybe on some subconscious level Alvaro was just nitpicking, he was just trying to find one part of Franco he could hate and make a fuss over just like Franco had done to him over the years. Maybe Alvaro just really wanted some petty revenge, even though he knew it wasn’t justified.

On that night he realised he wasn’t going to find it.

He realised that he just had to accept that he had been a shitty person and that was what had screwed up his friendship with Franco in the first place. It wasn’t that Franco found enjoyment in being an asshole to Alvaro. It wasn’t ‘just the way he is.’ It was simply because he thought Alvaro was wrong and he had no fear of showing Alvaro exactly how he felt.

Alvaro appreciated it, really. Franco was honest and caring, albeit in a rather aggressive way. He was an amazing friend. Alvaro thought it was time for him to stop being so fucking afraid of some made-up hatred that was all Alvaro’s doing in the first place.

Paulo gave him a nudge, waking him up from his deep thinking. “Watcha thinking about?”

“Nothing,” Alvaro said. Maybe he’d tell Paulo later. Paulo would understand.

“You’re making heart eyes at Franco,” Isco chimed in.

“I am not,” Alvaro said, at the same time Franco said, “He is not. Gross.”

Isco laughed. He continued shucking the oysters from the seafood tower, and he made a huge mess and Franco looked really adoringly disgusted at all of it.

The next place they hit was their hotel bar at the beachfront. They had to drive back, and Isco drove this time, and Alvaro honestly understood why Franco was so reluctant to let him. Compared to Franco, Isco might as well have been the worst driver in the world.

“Well,” Franco said as Isco slotted into a parking lot, which he’d cut someone off for. “You're paying for the twenty tickets we got on the way here.”

“Stop being dramatic,” Isco said. In Franco’s accent.

They found themselves seats near the edge of the sandy platform, nearest to the waves but still a decent proximity to the bar. Isco took the liberty of ordering Franco the strongest drink on the menu.

“I like him more when he's drunk,” was his explanation. “He's wacky.”

“Paulo’s wacky too,” Alvaro said.

“Get him drunk,” Isco suggested, like Paulo wasn't sitting right there. Honestly, Alvaro thought that out of the four of them, he held his liquor the best.

He soon found out that he had vastly underestimated what Isco had meant by ‘wacky.’

Franco talked _so much_ when he was drunk. Isco couldn't beat him even if he tried. He just jabbered on and on and on about literally _everything_ he set his eyes on, and speaking of his eyes – they looked much more exhausted than Franco was acting. They were tired but dilated and Franco was just so _hyped_. And Paulo – well. Paulo was drunk, too, so he just sat next to Alvaro and giggled at everything Franco said and looked really sleepy.

“I'm getting all of us some water,” Alvaro declared when everyone just went all silly drunk on him. He tried to leave their table but Paulo was grabbing on tightly to his arm.

“I'm going with you,” Paulo slurred.

“No, you stay here.”

“I'm going.”

And he tugged on Alvaro’s arm until he got to his feet, and then tucked himself into Alvaro’s shoulder. Alvaro headed to the bar and asked for four glasses of water.

“Where we goin’?” he heard Franco ask from behind him, and he turned and _dear lord,_ everyone had followed him from the table and they were all now gathered at the bar looking confused.

“Nowhere,” Alvaro said. He slid two glasses of water Franco and Isco’s way. “Drink up.”

Franco finished his glass in one gulp, then made a face. “This drink doesn't taste like anything.”

Paulo giggled. He slurped loudly from his own glass. “Oh yeah, it doesn't.”

But Alvaro knew for a fact that Paulo would sober up relatively well after downing a lot of water, so he just got two bottles of it and headed back to the table, thinking everyone would follow him.

He was wrong. Franco and Isco stayed at the bar, and Alvaro could hear little snippets of their conversation.

“You're cute,” Franco said to the bartender. While his boyfriend Isco was literally hanging off his arm. He turned to Isco. “He's cute.”

“He is,” Isco said.

“You're cuter.”

“I am.”

“But he's cute.”

“Thanks,” the bartender smiled. “Trying to get a drink out of me, huh?”

Franco beamed at him like a small child.

It worked. He got himself a drink. The cheapest one on the menu, no doubt, but it was a drink.

“Another one for my boyfriend?” Franco asked.

“I think you're cute, too,” Isco chimed in.

The bartender laughed. He poured the same drink for Isco and shooed the both of them away.

Alvaro turned to Paulo, to whom he'd been feeding glass after glass of water as all the stuff at the bar happened.

“You good?” he asked.

Paulo nodded. “Good.”

Then he puckered his lips for a kiss, to which Alvaro obliged. Paulo’s lips were moist and soft and his kisses were sloppy. Alvaro found himself smiling into them.

“Watcha thinking about?” Paulo asked. He drew little circles down Alvaro’s arm before holding Alvaro’s hand in both of his.

“Nothing much.”

“You've been making heart eyes at Franco all night.”

“I haven't!”

“Are you in love with him?”

“I am not.”

Paulo giggled. He pressed his cheek on Alvaro’s shoulder. “You're in love with _me._ ”

“Mmhmm, I am,” Alvaro smiled. “Are you going to remember any of this tomorrow?”

“Maybe a lil bit,” Paulo said. He picked up his glass of water and sipped it again, like he thought it’d help.

“Okay,” Alvaro said. “Can I talk about Franco?”

“About your crush on him?”

“Paulo!”

“Okay, okay.”

“I'm thinking maybe I was wrong to hate him.”

“Yeah?” Paulo smiled at his lap. “Why?”

“‘Cause he was just trying to help. And I thought he was picking on me and I didn't believe you, and I didn't believe Isco. But he’s a good person and I’ve just been trying to hate him all this time, trying to find something to pick on but today I just. I realised that there isn’t anything to pick on. ‘Cause Franco’s a good friend. A great friend. And I’ve just been petty and all that shit.”

Paulo tilted his head to look at Alvaro. “He is.”

“And I’ve just been, I don’t know. Mean to him. In my heart.”

“It’s okay. He understands.”

“Yeah? That makes me feel worse.”

“Why?”

“‘Cause he’s so good!”

Paulo laughed. He lifted a hand to cup Alvaro’s cheek. “You’re so cute.”

“I didn’t expect him to have been the one who wanted to invite us.”

“Me neither.”

“He’s so,” Alvaro sighed. “His heart is so big, you know? Just like Isco’s. Isco’s is the same. But I just. It took me so many years to admit that Franco only means well in whatever he did to me. It takes me years for _everything_.”

Paulo went thoughtfully silent. Then he asked, “Alvi, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you have a crush on Franco?”

“Paulo!” Alvaro groaned.

“Just tell me the truth. I won’t be mad. A crush is different from being in love with someone.”

“I don’t have a crush on Franco.”

“Not even a little?”

Alvaro sighed again. “Okay, maybe a little. But not in that way, you know? I have like, a tiny platonic crush. Like that feeling when you really, really wanna be friends with someone.”

Paulo nodded sleepily. “Yeah.”

“It's just. I feel like it always takes me ages to get something. For something to make sense to me.”

“Doesn't matter,” Paulo said kindly. “As long as you eventually get it.”

Alvaro smiled. “Paulo,” he whispered, not sure Paulo could actually hear him over the music.

“Hmm?” Paulo murmured, his tiny hand curling around Alvaro’s forearm.

“I love you,” Alvaro said. “You know that?”

Paulo nodded. “Me, too.”

“Don't remember a day that I didn't.”

“Me neither,” Paulo whispered. His fingers softly drummed on Alvaro’s skin.

“This summer’s gonna be cool, yeah?” Alvaro asked. “Between us.”

“After today, Alvi,” Paulo said softly, his words still slightly slurred. “After today, after seeing how our first day went, I have no doubt it’s going to be cool.”

Alvaro smiled. He kissed the top of Paulo’s head. His hair smelled a little bit like the sea.

Then Franco and Isco came stumbling back to the table and put their empty glasses down. Alvaro was honestly surprised they even remembered how to come back. “Come dance with us,” Isco said.

“Dance?” Paulo asked, like he’d suddenly forgotten what that meant.

“Yeah,” Franco said sluggishly. “You know? Move. Move your body? Yeah. To the music.”

Paulo laughed. Before Alvaro could stop him, he said, “Okay.”

So Alvaro got dragged along to the dance floor and he didn’t know what to _do_ there so he just stood where he was, swaying gently to the music that was playing. Which was stupid. Because it was some fast pop song.

“Come on,” Paulo said, laughing again when he saw Alvaro shuffling about awkwardly. He grabbed Alvaro’s hands and started shaking him along to the music. “Just follow the music.”

Alvaro just let Paulo guide him, let Paulo wrap his arms around Alvaro’s neck and hang off him like a baby sloth, hips moving rhythmically against Alvaro’s. He looked up at Alvaro with the brightest, greenest eyes, twinkling under the colourful fairy lights that hung above the dance floor.

And everything around them just. Just faded away. Suddenly it was only Alvaro and Paulo on that dance floor, swaying out of beat for all Alvaro could care, looking into each other’s eyes like they were tunnels that never ended. Tunnels they _never wanted_ to end.

Alvaro felt this. This sudden overwhelming _love_ for Paulo, the familiar feeling he got every time he looked at Paulo too long. Like his heart had suddenly grown some tiny arms and was shaking the grilles of his ribcage trying to escape. He squeezed the sides of Paulo’s waist and laughed when Paulo squealed and squirmed. He leaned over and kissed Paulo on the lips, and when he closed he eyes it was as if the lights above him had turned into fireworks.

A few songs passed and Paulo led Alvaro through each of them, the smile on his face growing each time. He was grinning so big that Alvaro was afraid his cute little cheeks were going to explode.

Isco and Franco were in full fucking swing, from what Alvaro saw when he turned to them. They’d migrated to the middle of the dance floor, where they were executing some high-level hip shaking. Alvaro was almost embarrassed looking at them, especially since they were attracting the attention of everyone around them, dancing so extravagantly to Shape Of You. Franco was mouthing along to the words as Isco beamed at him, the both of them flawlessly coordinating their dance steps despite Alvaro knowing that it was their first time dancing like that together. They broke eye contact for a solitary second as Franco twirled Isco around, and then they returned to their comfortable rhythm gazing into each other’s eyes, like they found some sort of magic in them that allowed their hips to sway together so flawlessly.

About a minute into Galway Girl Paulo said he was thirsty, so Alvaro brought him to the bar and got him another bottle of water. Paulo poured it into two glasses and chugged from one of them.

“They’re so cute,” he said, watching Franco and Isco.

“I know,” Alvaro laughed. The both of them were performing the lyrics, with Franco mouthing the words, kissing Isco on the neck, taking his hands, and then doing their hip-swinging thing again as Isco giggled like Alvaro had never seen him giggle before.

“They’re good dancers.”

“I didn’t know Franco could dance.”

“He’s half latino. Like me.”

“It’s not like you can dance either,” Alvaro said, earning himself a slap on the shoulder. He’d actually just momentarily forgotten that Franco was Argentine. No one could blame him. Franco didn’t look like a person who danced very often. Turned out, he was pretty good at it.

“It’s in our genes. We just gotta activate it.”

Alvaro continued watching them dance the night away. They were actually pretty good at it. Stealing _all_ the limelight.

There was a mixture of groans and cheers when Despacito was the next song to come on. But not from Franco and Isco; they just grinned at each other and got right into it, the hip-swinging suddenly turning into grinding, Isco’s arms hooked around Franco’s neck and his head pressed against Franco’s as his gaze turned dark. Franco’s hands moved south from Isco’s waist to grab a handful of Isco’s bum.

“They’re gonna make out,” Alvaro said.

“Why are you still watching them?” Paulo asked, gulping down another glass of water. Alvaro wondered why he didn’t have to pee yet.

“I don’t know. It’s interesting. You wouldn’t think that they’d get along.”

Alvaro turned out to be right – less than a minute later, there was some violent making out on the dance floor from none other than Franco and Isco.

“ _Oh_ ,” Paulo said when he saw it, blushing slightly as he slapped his hands over his eyes, like he hadn’t expected it to be like _that_. “Um. I feel like I shouldn’t be watching. It’s, um. It’s kinda erotic.”

“You say that like you’ve never watched porn.”

“Those are our _friends_ ,” Paulo pointed out. “Just ‘cause we accidentally saw them just now, doesn’t mean we can just watch them anytime we want!”

“Okay,” Alvaro said. He turned to Paulo and removed his hands from his eyes. They sat there staring at each other for a while. “Are they still making out?” Alvaro asked as the song ended.

“I don’t know, you look.”

“You just told me not to look.”

“Oh,” Paulo said. He took a brief peek, and then squeezed his eyes shut. “Oh, God, they’re coming here. Quick, pretend everything’s normal.”

Alvaro didn’t have time to point out that _Paulo_ was the one who was acting abnormally before Franco and Isco stopped next to them, almost tripping over their own feet. They had big smiles on their faces and Franco’s lips looked a little swollen from how violently Isco had been attacking them.

“I need to be fucked so bad right now,” Isco said to the circle.

Alvaro and Paulo blinked at him, then at each other. Then at him again. “And you’re telling us that because?” Alvaro asked.

“Oh,” Isco said, giving a soft burp. He turned to Franco and whispered – or attempted to whisper, very futilely, “I need to be fucked so bad right now.”

Franco burst into a fit of giggles. He gave Isco’s ass a squeeze, making Isco squeal. “Let’s go have sex in our new room,” he said, then dragged Isco out the bar while sloppily making out with him.

“Well,” Alvaro said. “Thank God they're gone.”

“Don’t want ‘em to be caught for public fornication,” Paulo slurred, completely fucking up the pronunciation. “I need to pee.”

Alvaro paid the bill and then brought Paulo to the restroom, worried that he’d fall face-down in a urinal or do something equally stupid. He helped Paulo wash his face and then took Paulo by the hand as Paulo smiled at him. And continued smiling as Alvaro walked him out of the restroom.

“What do you want to do now?” Alvaro asked.

“Let’s take a walk on the beach.”

“Are you cold?’

Paulo shook his head.

They walked out to the waterfront, slippered feet treading through the sand, walking in a straight line just above where the high tide ended. They found a swing up the beach some distance away from the hotel, so they sat in it and watched the pitch-black waves turn bluish under the moonlight as they rushed up the shore.

“Alvi,” Paulo whispered, his voice carried by the waves.

“Hmm?”

“Are you leaving again?”

“What?” Alvaro asked. “I’m not gonna leave you, Pau.”

“No,” Paulo said, swallowing audibly. “Leaving Madrid.”

Alvaro sighed. He honestly didn’t know. “I don’t know.”

“Will it be far?”

“It won’t be. I won’t let it be far.”

Paulo nodded. “And you’ll still...you’ll still want me?”

“Of course I will. Paulo. I always will. I’m not that wilful seventeen-year-old Alvaro anymore. This Alvaro can kick that Alvaro’s spoiled little ass and tell him to his face that when you love someone enough, it doesn’t matter the distance between the both of you.”

Paulo smiled at the sand. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said. He gave Paulo’s hand a squeeze. He knew Paulo was only being emotional because he was drunk. He’d always been this way. He’d probably feel better the next morning, probably even forget everything. “Paulo. Don’t let the thought of this taint this summer like it did last summer.”

Paulo nodded again. “I won’t. Alvi. Football will always be first for us.”

“For this part of our lives.”

“Mmhmm.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

They could’ve spent _hours_ sitting there listening to the waves. Sitting there next to each other, hands softly intertwined. Hearing each other breathe despite the deafening sound of the water creeping up near their feet. They could’ve spent hours there. Alvaro didn’t know, and neither did he care.

All that mattered to him was that Paulo was by his side; it was that Paulo had been by his side since the 21st of June 2009, and he would be by his side for all the 21st Junes of eternity. And that was all that was going to matter to Alvaro.

\------

So it was no surprise at all that Franco and Isco, for the life of them, could not find the way back to their room.

All their drunken giggling down the hallways as they attempted, though, was eventually caught on by a security guard, who proceeded to lead them back to the room shown on their keycard.

“That’s the most unromantic kind of foreplay I’ve ever experienced,” Isco remarked as they stumbled inside and shut the door.

“Shut the fuck up,” Franco said. He shoved Isco against the closed door and then grabbed him when he bounced back against Franco. He grabbed Isco’s bum with both hands and started dragging Isco towards their fresh clean bed.

“We’re all sandy and gross,” Isco pointed out.

“God, Isco Alarcon, I don’t fucking care,” Franco said, which was both a surprise and not a surprise, because Isco knew not to expect anything else from Franco other than an utter opposite of his usual self when it came to being drunk.

“You’ll care in the morning.”

“Fine. I’ll fuck you on the floor.”

Before Isco could respond, Franco swung him towards the center of the room and knelt down so Isco was almost thrown on the ground. He crawled over Isco and pressed his crotch to Isco’s, sighing as their semis from the earlier unfinished encounter rubbed together. Isco arched his back upwards, gasping when the friction hit him in exactly the right way.

Franco tugged Isco’s jeans down his thighs, dragging them off his ankles together with his slippers. He got on his hands and knees and started nuzzling Isco’s bulge with his nose, through Isco’s underwear. Isco shuddered and Franco smiled.

“Just hurry up,” Isco whined.

“Mmhmm,” Franco murmured, like he had absolutely no intention of doing so.

“Franco.”

Franco gave a little chuckle. He pulled Isco’s underwear down his thighs, planting kisses to follow it down Isco’s legs, all the way to his ankles. He threw the briefs aside and just. Just _dove in_ , dove straight in and surrounded Isco’s cock with his lips, causing Isco to lift his hips off the floor and think to himself _God,_ how lucky he was that his boyfriend had zero gag reflex.

Franco slowly migrated to Isco’s hole, tongue flicking and fingers slowly trailing down to follow it. He lapped at it like a starving hound, ignoring Isco’s convulsing hips or the fact that Isco kept kneeing him in the neck. He placed his thumbs on either side of Isco’s hole, pulling to stretch Isco out, tongue flicking in and out quickly.

“You good,” he said when he finally surfaced for a breath, more like a statement than a question.

“Hmm,” Isco mumbled. It was all he could afford.

Franco took it as a yes. He got on his knees and wriggled out of his pants, followed by his t-shirt, because Franco Vazquez might be a sex maniac but at the same time Franco Vazquez would never be caught dead having sex with his t-shirt on. He settled over Isco again when he was done, smiling dreamily and sliding his hands up Isco’s abdomen to remove his shirt. Isco shuddered at the feeling of Franco’s big palms on his skin, a feeling so familiar yet a feeling that Isco knew he would never get tired of.

Franco was softly kissing all of Isco’s gasps out of his mouth as he gently slid his – evidently, not broken in any way – dick into Isco’s hole, one hand guiding it and the other tenderly cupping Isco’s cheek. He slowly pushed himself all the way in, and then out, and in again, his other hand moving to Isco’s other cheek, thumbs stroking the bottoms of Isco’s eyes like he was just. Just marvelling at Isco. He looked so happy. Drunk, but happy. Isco struggled to open his eyes more just to take in as much of that as he could.

“You okay?” Franco mouthed. He gave another gentle thrust.

Isco nodded and smiled. Franco was always more affectionate when he was drunk. As expected, Franco closed the gap between them and kissed Isco on the lips, his tongue slowly working them open. He smiled when he felt Isco just. Just completely submit to him, melting under him and almost into the floor. His hips continued moving rhythmically, quickening and then slowing again when Isco started to gasp for air. He planted wet kisses all over Isco’s face, slowly moving to Isco’s earlobe and nibbling at it. He gave a low murmur into Isco’s neck which Isco couldn’t make out.

It felt _heavenly,_ being devoured so slowly by Franco like that. Feeling Franco’s beautiful body and beautiful lips and beautiful hands all over Isco’s body. Knowing that the man he loved, the only man he loved and would ever love in this entire world, loved him back just as much. Sharing this part of Franco’s world, _any_ part of Franco’s world with him, because Franco saw _everything_ through the most beautiful lenses and Isco wanted to do the same for the rest of his life. It all made Isco feel. Feel so _happy,_ and part of him was thinking how weird it was that he was thinking about all these things while Franco was pounding him into the ground but another part of him knew that this was what made their relationship so special.

He was awoken from his wildly swerving train of thought when Franco suddenly gave a low moan of, “Alarcon, I’m gonna come.”

“Come up here and fuck my face,” Isco whispered.

“Yeah?” Franco grinned sleepily at him, gingerly pulling out and moving to sit on Isco’s abdomen. “Yeah?”

Isco nodded, and Franco crawled further up so the tip of his dick was nudging Isco’s lips. He lifted his hips off Isco’s chest and slowly pushed his entire length into Isco’s mouth, careful not to let Isco choke. Isco gave a hard suck and Franco shuddered, gasping and buckling over Isco’s head, big hands searching in Isco’s hair but not finding what he was looking for. Isco cupped one hand around the base of Franco’s dick while the other wandered upwards and found Franco’s nipple, squeezing and twisting and leading Franco to make this _horrible_ sound that both turned Isco on even more and made him suddenly a little afraid that he’d hurt Franco.

But Franco just sat up straight, hands tightly grasping Isco’s head like he was holding a ball in place, and he gave this Isco this look that told Isco he was wondering yet again how all of Isco’s beauty could fit into him – and Isco knew it was all okay.

He let Franco’s oozing precome pool at the base of his mouth together with his spit. It made a little sploshing sound as Franco thrusted and Franco. Franco almost had a complete mental breakdown, his hands desperately trying to find something to grab. Isco placed his hands on Franco’s hips, palms small against Franco’s abdomen, for Franco to hold. Franco took them eagerly, fingers squeezing Isco’s so tightly Isco thought maybe some of them were broken.

Isco stared at Franco until Franco locked eyes with him, his brown jewels glazed over with half-drunken haze, half-arousal. He started moving his hips more quickly, fucking into the back of Isco’s throat as Isco slowly started to tighten his lips around Franco’s length. And he was. Franco was. He was so hard and wet and he was so _fucking hot_ and Isco just suddenly really wanted to make Franco come, really wanted to taste Franco’s come. He moved his hands to Franco’s ass, taking Franco’s hands along with them. He gave it a squeeze and then guided Franco’s hips to a quicker rhythm, his eyes still locked on Franco’s as Franco gave this really loud growl and let go of Isco’s hands so he could lean over Isco’s head and place his palms on the floor. Isco didn't want to miss a single moment of this. Even if the alcohol impaired his senses a little. Isco never wanted to forget any tiny sliver of how Franco made him feel. Ever.

Franco barely had time to pull out of Isco’s mouth before he came. He left a trail of come as he moved to ride his orgasm out against Isco’s jaw, ignoring Isco when Isco tried to put Franco’s dick back in his mouth. He just. Just collapsed over Isco, hips convulsing with a life of their own, and moaned into the ground as he emptied himself all over Isco’s neck.

Isco swallowed the mixture of fluids that had been pooling in his mouth. “Franco,” he called, his voice hoarse. He cleared his throat.

“Isco Alarcon,” Franco gasped, breathless. He shimmied down Isco’s abdomen and kissed Isco on the lips, tenderly because they were a little swollen. “Isco. You look so fucking hot with my come all over you.”

Then he used his fingers to scoop all the come that was everywhere, guiding all of it into Isco’s mouth.

“Make me come,” Isco whispered, hips fidgeting under Franco. Franco smiled when Isco's dick rubbed itself up Franco’s butt crack.

“As you wish,” he said. He planted his lips softly on Isco’s again before – before he started to give Isco the fucking ride of his life.

He slowly slipped out of Isco’s grasp and moved to crouch in between Isco’s thighs, his fingers tracing the rim of Isco’s hole, pulling slightly to stretch Isco out again. His lips eagerly surrounded Isco’s balls, tongue briefly flicking around them before wrapping his lips over them and just – just. Isco didn’t even know what he was doing. Some kind of fucking magic, what the fuck, Isco only knew that he literally saw stars in front of his eyes.

Franco’s ran the tip of his tongue up Isco’s length before his hips surrounded the tip of Isco’s dick. He teased it for a while with his tongue, sliding it under the head and then placing some pressure over Isco’s slit. Isco struggled for more, keening upwards to try and push himself into Franco’s mouth. Franco didn’t oblige.

Well, not until a couple seconds later, at least. A couple seconds that felt like a couple of hours to Isco. Franco lowered his lips slowly over Isco’s entire length, so _agonisingly slowly_ Isco legitimately thought he was going to die before Franco was done – and at the same time, he slipped his middle finger into Isco’s hole, coordinating it so that it went all the way in just when his lips touched Isco’s balls.

“Fuck,” Isco groaned loudly, shuddering before it registered that it was a bad idea to do so because it jostled Franco’s finger and his lips and sent a spark up Isco’s spine. He heard his own voice and his own subsequent moan reverberate through his skull. He briefly wondered if Paulo and Alvaro were back in their room and if they could hear Isco fucking making all these weird sounds, but then quickly realised that _he didn’t care._ “Franco. _Franco._ ”

Franco’s head popped up into Isco’s view. The _slyest_ smile crossed his face as he curled his finger inside Isco, hooking it towards Isco’s prostate.

And Isco. Isco could _swear_ he fucking saw sparks in front of his eyes. The room went bright white for a few seconds, the intense pool of pleasure oozing up Isco’s body and escaping his mouth as the loudest gasp of air. When he regained enough of his senses he saw Franco’s hand curled completely around Isco’s dick, giving it a squeeze and a tug. His finger uncurled and curled again, nudging Isco’s prostate, sending the nicest kind of soreness up Isco’s behind. He did it a few times, bright brown eyes watching Isco intensely, darting all over Isco’s body like he was both checking if Isco was okay and just. Just marvelling at Isco.

“Franco,” Isco breathed, shutting his eyes so he wouldn’t just. Just combust. “I’m gonna come.”

“Yeah,” Franco said softly, and Isco heard the smile in his voice. He crawled halfway over Isco, straddling one of Isco’s thighs. He kept his hands in place as he leaned over and tenderly pressed his lips to Isco’s. “Mmhmm. Yeah. Come for me, Alarcon.”

And Isco – well. What could he say? He had always been an obedient boy. Another strategic flick of Franco’s finger later, Isco found himself arching his back off the floor as his come spurted all over Franco’s hand and Isco’s abdomen, his teeth gritted in order not to scream. Franco’s hands were still moving like a well-oiled sex machine – well, Franco together with Isco had always been a well-oiled sex machine, so. Franco fucking milked Isco dry as Isco just. Just lay there, really wanting to hold Franco but finding zero energy to do so. He clenched his fists around thin air. Franco shoved his finger up Isco’s ass one final, hard time, the tip of his other thumb sliding over Isco’s slit at the same time, and Isco’s hips just fucking convulsed off the floor.

He was still shaking when Franco finally let go of all Isco’s nether regions and climbed over him to hug all the shudders out of his shoulders and kiss all the remaining gasps out of his lips. He held Isco’s cheeks gently in his palms and just. Just worked hard at Isco’s mouth. Isco was almost hard again.

When he told Franco that, Franco gave this _adorable_ chuckle. He collapsed on his side next to Isco, on the floor. He ignored the little strings of come that linked their abdomens, instead focusing on running his fingers down Isco’s cheeks and kissing him on the nose a few times. And Isco was. Isco was literally _dripping with sweat_ , like, he would bet one of his legs that there was a pool of sweat just surrounding their bodies, but. But Franco just kept looking at him like he was the most beautiful thing Franco had ever set his eyes on.

“Did it hurt?” he whispered.

“When I fell from heaven?” Isco asked.

Franco gave a little giggle. “ _No,_ when I – the thing I did.”

Isco shook his head. “I liked it.”

“Yeah? You did?”

“Mmhmm.”

A soft, comfortable silence.

“And when you fell from heaven?” Franco asked.

Isco laughed. He shook his head again. “‘Cause I fell right into your arms.”

Franco beamed. He wrapped his arms tightly around Isco and – and then proceeded to doze. Without showering. Or even wiping all the come off himself. _God,_ Isco _loved_ drunk Franco.

“Let’s go shower,” he urged before Franco could escape into dreamland.

“Make me,” Franco said sleepily.

So Isco did. He got up and grabbed Franco’s ankles and just dragged him to the bathroom, where the floor was cold so Franco shot up so quickly he got dizzy. He spent the entirety of their shower just smiling at Isco as Isco cleaned him.

That smile turned into a frown when they stepped outside again and Franco saw the mess they’d made on the floor – streaks of sweat from when Isco dragged Franco to the bathroom, trailing from the mixture of their sweat and all the sand from their slippers where they’d, you know. Done the deed.

Isco solved the problem by throwing a few towels over everything and pushing Franco into bed. Franco seemed adequately satisfied with that. He snuggled up to Isco, half-draping off him and nuzzling his neck, the way that Isco always slept with him. Like they’d suddenly exchanged roles.

“Sleepy?” Isco asked.

“Mmhmm.”

“Drunk?”

“Sober now. But sleepy.”

Isco smiled. He curled his arm around Franco’s head and pressed it more tightly against himself. Franco looked peaceful with his eyes closed. He even felt peaceful, a gentle, peaceful weight against Isco’s side.

Isco reached for his phone and started taking a video of them for his Instagram story. Franco still had his eyes closed and his face buried into the crook of Isco’s neck. Isco gave his big shiny forehead a kiss.

“Love you,” he whispered.

He felt Franco smile against his skin, then wrap his arm around Isco’s head, tilt his head upwards, and give Isco a few loud, wet, smoochy kisses on his neck.

“That’s on video,” Isco informed him.

Franco’s eyes shot open. He took a quick look at the phone being held above them, then shyly turned his face back into the pillow.

Isco giggled and the video went all shaky. He posted it on his story with five multicoloured hearts next to Franco’s tag.

Franco fell asleep first for the first time in a long time. It was probably because of Isco’s fingers running rhythmically through Franco’s hair. Or the fact that Franco had been drunk earlier. Or all the mind-blowing sex they’d had. Whatever it was, Franco fell into the deepest slumber within five minutes.

Isco lay awake in bed. He wasn't really sleepy. Tired, yes. Sleepy, much less. He just loved listening to Franco breathe. And feeling Franco breathe against him.

He was awake when Paulo and Alvaro stumbled back into their room. It was nothing more than a few muffled thumps, which made Isco rather relieved because then no one would hear anyone else having sex. The door joining their rooms rattled a little, followed by Paulo’s voice gently scolding Alvaro for being a nuisance.

Isco fell asleep with a big smile on his face, knowing in his heart that this was going to be the best summer of his life.

 


	8. Nor Lose Possession Of That Fair Thou Ow'st

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys!  
> Soooo sorry for this terribly late update! But this chapter will be worth it...I promise ;))))))))))
> 
> As always, you can contact me on tumblr (bernerdeschi) if you wish to talk. And again as usual, any questions this chapter produces will be answered in the next one :)
> 
> Thank you all so much for being sooo patient with me!

So it turned out that changing rooms didn’t really solve all their problems because Alvaro just came fucking barging in through the connecting door the next morning to the scene of Isco and Franco curled up in the same armchair and making out.

He stopped in his tracks and pulled out his phone. Within no time at all he found that Panic! At The Disco song and thumbed the slider to the exact second he wanted.

_“Haven’t you people ever heard of closing the goddamn door?”_

Isco burst into laughter and Franco startled, only just noticing that there were now other people in the room. Paulo also started laughing from the connecting doorway behind Alvaro.

“We did,” Isco pointed out. “You’re the one who opened it.”

“Do you just have that song on hand all the time?” Paulo asked.

“He’s been playing it at everyone in the locker room if they get naked in front of everyone else or if they’re talking too loudly.”

“But –”

“Yes, I know. There are no doors in the locker room. It’s stupid.”

“Hey,” Alvaro said.

Franco started laughing softly, the first sound Alvaro heard him make that morning. Then he said, slowly, “It’s much better to face these kinds of things with a sense of poise and rationality.”

Everyone erupted into loud laughter, including Alvaro himself. Isco was practically just sliding off the armchair and onto the ground.

“Are you saying I don't have poise and rationality?” Alvaro asked when everyone’s laughter subsided enough. “Huh? Is that it?”

“You don't,” Isco, Franco, and Paulo said in haunting unison.

Alvaro threw his hands in the air in resignation. He walked to the main door and opened it. “Come on,” he said, walking out into the corridor. “I’m starving.”

“At least you two got out of bed for breakfast,” Franco remarked. He gave the room a brief sweep to check that everything was in place, then took the keycard out of the wall slot and closed the door.

And Alvaro couldn’t even argue with that, so whatever.

They drove downtown again with Franco in the driver’s seat. Isco got banished to the backseat not only because he was talking too much but also because Paulo called shotgun before anyone else could. That little traitor.

Anyway, they had breakfast at a tiny cafe on one of the smaller streets. They ordered four mains to share, but the scrambled eggs Paulo ordered had onions in them which made Alvaro almost barf. _And_ Paulo tasted like onions after that, too, which was extra gross.

After breakfast all the stores started opening, so they just took a walk around the area, since it was too hot to be at the beach so late in the morning. Alvaro picked some shoes out at the mall before Paulo dragged them all to this dog grooming place across from the shoe store, and he got so fucking _excited_ at all the dogs and Alvaro was honestly just so happy watching him. The four of them stood there like little kids with their noses and palms pressed up on the window, looking at the dogs being groomed, bathed, and blow-dried. They even made friends with one of the miniature poodles who looked just like a furry brown teddy and who kept standing on his hind feet and smiling whenever he saw the four of them looking. They got to pet him when his owner came to collect him. He was soft and _adorable_.

“I want a dog,” Isco said as they watched the little guy trot down the mall.

“You have two,” Alvaro pointed out.

“I want another one.”

“I’ll get you one,” Franco said.

“Mmhmm?”

“Mmhmm,” Franco murmured, pressing his lips on Isco’s.

They continued walking quietly for a while. Paulo was gazing eagerly all around him, his green eyes so _bright_ it was like he’d scooped them up from the ocean. His hand was gently intertwined in Alvaro’s, not so much so they stayed together but more because it was a comforting, familiar weight. Paulo commented softly on the stores they passed. He didn’t expect any response from Alvaro. Alvaro just took it all in, just let Paulo’s gentle voice seep into his brain.

And then suddenly, Paulo disappeared.

He left in such a hurry that there was a sudden wind in Alvaro’s hair. He turned to Isco and saw that Isco was also just standing there by himself, his hand in the air where it had been holding Franco’s. Franco had disappeared. Isco turned to Alvaro and furrowed his brow. Alvaro went and stood beside him. Neither of them said a word. There were no words to describe their confusion.

Despite that, they found the answer to their unspoken questions about a minute later when they looked around and spotted the Lego store at the end of the row of shops.

“Dear Lord,” were the first words Isco uttered.

They headed into the store and saw Franco and Paulo just. Just _sitting on the ground_ with like, seven lego sets surrounding them, reading the backs with eager eyes and then describing them to each other. They divided the boxes into two stacks, those they wanted and those they didn’t. Then they took down second sets of those they both wanted.

Franco beamed when he saw Isco and Alvaro looking. He bounded over with four large boxes in his arms right up to Isco and said, really excitedly, “I’m getting these.”

Isco burst into soft laughter. “Yeah?” he said. “Okay. Tell me what they are.”

Alvaro left them alone as they whispered together near the entrance. He went to Paulo and sat down next to him. “Hey, baby,” he said.

“Hiii,” Paulo said happily. “Alvi, I’m gonna get these.”

“Cool, yeah,” Alvaro smiled. He didn’t make any remark about how many of these things Paulo already had and how little space he had left to put new ones. He _couldn’t bear to._ Paulo looked so _happy._ “Don’t go off running like that, okay?”

“You got worried?” Paulo asked. “Hmm? _You_ got worried about _me_?”

“‘Course I did.”

Paulo giggled. “Alvi, will you build these with me?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“I know you think they’re lame but –”

“They’re not lame.”

“You’ve been saying they’re lame since the first day I met you.”

“Well, you like them, so they’re not lame.”

Paulo smiled. “Okay,” he whispered.

“C’mon,” Alvaro said, getting to his feet. “Hold my new shoes. I’ll get these for you.”

So Paulo obediently held Alvaro’s shoes and hovered around Alvaro as he paid for the Lego sets. Isco came up behind him carrying Franco’s, only to have Franco skip by again a few minutes later holding a couple of kids’ Lego sets and saying they were for Junior. They were of American monuments. They looked different from what they had in Spain. They bought so many sets that they got two mini Lego sets for free. Franco and Paulo made the agreement to put them together later at night or some time during this trip. Isco and Alvaro just watched helplessly.

They continued walking around the area, lugging their Legos and new shoes along with them. The sun was shining brightly but everyone had their caps on so it wasn’t a problem. The problem was, they’d made so many turns that Alvaro wasn’t even sure how they’d get back to their van.

Imagine his surprise when they turned the next corner and their van was parked right there, in front of their breakfast cafe, safe and sound. Everyone else looked surprised, too. Everyone except Franco.

God, that man was a fucking miracle.

Paulo nudged Alvaro in the ribs. “You’re making heart eyes again,” he whispered.

“I am not,” Alvaro retorted.

“You sure it’s just a platonic crush?”

“You remember that?”

“Of course I do. I wasn’t that drunk.”

Alvaro scoffed. “I just think he’s really cool and stuff.”

“ _Really cool and stuff_ ,” Paulo mocked.

Alvaro rolled his eyes. “Like, he’s really smart.”

“Have you ever listened to anything I’ve ever told you about Franco? I’ve been telling you these things forever.”

“Well,” Alvaro said. “Does it look like I’ve been listening?”

“Hey,” Franco called from where he and Isco were standing, next to the van with the door open and all their things dumped in the back. Alvaro’s guilty conscience made him jump. Paulo gave a snicker. Franco pointed at the store selling kids’ clothes across the street. “We’re going there to take a look. Was closed this morning.”

“Okay,” Paulo said. They watched silently as Isco and Franco crossed the road and disappeared inside the shop. Then Paulo said, “Wanna get on Franco’s good side? Go pick out some baby clothes with him.”

“What,” Alvaro said.

“He probably wants to get some for Isco’s son.”

“I’m not picking out baby clothes with Franco Vazquez.”

“Well, you want to be his friend, don’t you?”

Alvaro sulked for a while but eventually relented. He put all their things in the back of the van and crossed the street with Paulo.

When they entered the store Isco and Franco were standing in the jeans section looking at tiny baby jeans. There were _so many_ of them. Alvaro didn’t get it. Kids grew so quickly. They’d grow out of these jeans in like, three days. And they cost, what? Alvaro turned one of the tags over. More than forty bucks.

“It’s really expensive for something so tiny,” Alvaro remarked, thinking Paulo was right beside him. When he turned, Paulo had disappeared again.

He looked across the store and saw him and Isco huddled together, pretending they weren’t spying on Alvaro and Franco. Alvaro narrowed his eyes at them.

“It is,” Franco chuckled. He didn’t seem to notice Isco was gone.

“And there are so many,” Alvaro said, because it was so _ridiculous_ and once Alvaro started he couldn’t seem to stop. “The kid probably wouldn’t even be able to tell the difference.”

Franco chuckled again. “Yeah.”

Alvaro grabbed a pair of jeans from the opposite rack, a dark blue pair with rips at the knees. He handed it to Franco. “Here, so he can match with you and Isco’s ripped jeans.”

Franco took it with a smile. “Cool, yeah,” he said, walking over to the rack and searching for another size. “He probably needs a bigger size.”

Alvaro wandered over to watch him. And then followed him as he got a few cargo pants and moved over to the shirt section. “You buy Junior’s clothes often?”

“A few times,” Franco said. “He grows out of them really fast.”

“Yeah.”

“But I like buying things for him. He looks so happy whenever he gets new things.”

Alvaro stayed silent. He didn’t really know what to say. Franco browsed the racks for a few minutes before selecting three t-shirts: two of them white, one with rubber ducks printed all over it and the other with little airplanes, and the last one black with palm trees.

“I’ll get two,” he said to Alvaro. “Which one should I leave?”

Alvaro stared at him for a moment, surprised that Franco would ask for _his_ advice. When he finally got his shit together again he said, “Well, I think the palm tree one is nice.”

“Mmhmm,” Franco said. He draped it over his arm together with the trousers.

“Perhaps rubber duck t-shirts are too common.”

“Yeah, okay,” Franco said. He hung the rubber duck t-shirt back on the rack. “Thanks.”

“Hey, maybe you should get him one with a Miami Beach print.”

And Franco got so _excited_ about that he went over to the souvenir section and spent an entire twenty minutes there. Alvaro rejoined the main group and they all stood there just. Just watching Franco be a big nerd.

“God, that was exhausting,” Alvaro said as Franco headed to the counter to pay. “Is it always this exhausting? Don’t you feel tired nerding out with him?”

Isco shook his head. Paulo said, “It’s only ‘cause you’re trying to impress him.”

“I’m not trying to impress him!”

“You gotta be on your best behaviour,” Isco added.

“Guys, shut the fuck up.”

But they only snickered again and Alvaro gave up. They headed back to the van and put Franco’s big bag of things together with everything else in the back.

Lunch was settled by driving to the nearest fast food drive-through and getting themselves a feast for four with all the sodas traded in for fruit juice so at least they weren’t deviating _too far_ from their diet. They sat in the back of their van devouring their food, tired from all the walking around. All their shopping bags were temporarily shoved in the corner.

“So what next?” Isco asked.

“Let’s just sit here for a while,” Franco said. “I’m a little sleepy.”

“‘Kay,” Isco said.

And Alvaro was a little sleepy too, so he sat with the both of them and watched people go by outside their side windows. Paulo was the only responsible one, or so he claimed, so he cleared the rubbish and took it out to the nearest bin. Alvaro could totally get used to this lifestyle.

But then Franco fucking fell asleep and everyone got bored sitting there for half an hour waiting for him to wake up (which he didn’t), so Alvaro took the wheel and just started driving with Paulo chittering next to him. Isco sat in the back, leaning against one of the sides and watching the streets go by through the opposite windows, with Franco napping on his shoulder.

Alvaro could see Paulo from the corner of his eye leaning excitedly over the dashboard to peer at the view in front of them. He gave a soft ‘wow’ when they turned the corner and the road ran straight towards the ocean.

“Hey,” Alvaro said. “Pau. We’ve never really been on a holiday together like this.”

“What about Ibiza last year?” Paulo asked.

“That’s different. It was in Spain and I knew the place. Now we’re far away and neither of us know this place and we’re going to explore it together. Like. Like sort of an adventure.”

Paulo rested his cheek on his hands on the dashboard and smiled at Alvaro. “Every day is an adventure with you, Alvi.”

“Gross,” Alvaro said, reaching over and wiggling Paulo’s nose. “Stop being gross.”

They drove along slowly, taking in all the sights. And a little of the smells, too, with the windows wound down for a little ventilation because the Florida summer was a little warm. They stopped whenever anyone – well, anyone who was awake, that was – saw something they wanted to get down to see. Even Franco woke up eventually, and just sat in the back drowsily when Isco got off to get them all some ice cream.

He awoke fully when Alvaro jerked his way into a narrow parking lot at South Pointe Pier. He smacked his head against the side of the van and woke up with a jolt.

“Jesus, Morata, take some driving lessons,” he grumbled sleepily.

“Oops,” Paulo whispered. “You got a demerit point.”

“Shut up, Paulo.”

They got down to stretch their legs and take a look around. The very tip of Miami Beach stretched out as a man-made wooden pier running parallel to a rocky pier. There were many people at the last stretch of beach, chilling under the cool late afternoon sun. The four of them got burritos for dinner and sat on a pier bench eating them. Franco was being really particular about the bench they chose because he wanted one with the best view and not of the Miami skyscrapers, so they ended up having to walk to the very edge of the pier.

“Our burritos are cold,” Isco was whining when they finally sat down.

“Sit on them,” Franco suggested, deadpan. “Then they’ll be warm.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Isco said. He grabbed his burrito and started munching on it hungrily.

They looked so stupid, the four of them squashed together on a bench made for two, elbows clanking whenever they tried to eat, Alvaro’s back against Isco’s and Paulo’s back against Franco’s. But there was a comfortable silence for which Alvaro was grateful. The ocean’s waves calmed by the time they reached the shore, but they crashed hard against the rocks and the vertical legs of the pier. Alvaro sought a kind of soothing rhythm in their sound.

After they were done with their food – and their rubbish, thanks to Paulo again – Isco and Franco escaped to take a walk on the sand or whatever, the two gross lovebirds. Paulo and Alvaro could see them as two little specks of black and white taking a very jumpy walk on the rocks but only making it like, five steps in before they figured out it was too hard to balance and gave up. Then they saw them running around knee-deep in the water and Franco trying to catch Isco but failing because Isco wandered too far out and got himself all wet and Franco refused to get any of his clothes wet.

They weren’t orientated properly for sunset, but they looked out at the horizon and watched it slowly turn red, the fiery sky reflected almost perfectly on the water. The shouting and music from the beach below faded away as the tide rose and everyone returned home. Little white and orange lights littered the horizon as ships sailed by, some of them from yachts and boats getting back to the main shore to the west.

The mouth of a plastic mineral water bottle suddenly popped up in front of Alvaro’s face. “Drink some water,” Paulo said kindly.

Alvaro chugged half of it obediently. He returned the rest to Paulo and Paulo finished it off.

There was a long period of silence. Paulo’s fingers traced Alvaro’s knuckles in time to the waves, like he knew Alvaro was counting them.

After twenty-three crashing waves Paulo said, “Alvi.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think my dad is watching me?”

When Alvaro turned to him, he was looking up at the sky, head leaning back on Alvaro’s shoulder. “Of course he is,” Alvaro said softly.

“Yeah? You think so?”

“Mmhmm. He’ll always make sure you’re okay.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“And he’s proud of me?”

“He’s very proud of you.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro smiled. He smoothened Paulo’s hair back on his head. He could see tears shimmering in Paulo’s eyes, waiting to fall. “I may have never met him but I know he’s super proud of you.”

“Yeah?” Paulo whispered.

“C’mon,” Alvaro caught the tear that tried escaping down Paulo’s cheek. “What’s wrong? Paulo.”

“Nothing,” Paulo said. “I just miss my dad.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro whispered, hugging him close. Paulo tucked himself into Alvaro’s shoulder, shoving his head into Alvaro’s neck so he wasn’t looking at the sky anymore. “Okay.”

“No one will listen to me talk about him.”

“Nonsense. Your family will.”

“Yeah, but,” Paulo shrugged. “They’re in the same situation as I am. It’s like when your team loses and everyone tries to make each other feel better but everyone sucks at it ‘cause everyone is sad.”

“I'll listen,” Alvaro offered. He'd never had the chance to meet Paulo’s dad but he was sure Paulo's dad was a great person, and Alvaro would always enjoy listening to Paulo talk about him, like he had since day one. “Like always.”

Paulo turned his head upwards and smiled at Alvaro, and Alvaro felt all his insides melt. He just. Alvaro just wanted to see Paulo smile like that every day. He just wanted to make Paulo happy. That was all he wanted to do for the rest of his life.

“Look,” Alvaro said after some silence. He pointed at a shimmering white spot in the sky, the only one in the entire sky they could see from where they were. Because of all the light from the buildings, or whatever. Sounded like it would be Franco’s thing. Anyway, Alvaro wasn’t sure if it was a star or something else, just that it was glittering brightly. “That’s your dad watching over us.”

Paulo gave this little. This little laughing sob. “Yeah?” he asked. “You know, my dad used to say that about my grandpa?”

Alvaro beamed at him. He couldn’t deny he was a little proud of himself. And Paulo could tell, too; he gave Alvaro a boop on the nose.

Alvaro listened to him speak softly about his father for the next twenty minutes while they waited for Isco and Franco to return. There seemed to be a lot of waiting around this vacation but Alvaro didn’t mind. In fact, they were having much more private time than he’d expected, since Franco and Isco did their own thing anyway. It all seemed to be working out.

When Isco and Franco returned, they were sweaty and tired. They plopped down behind Alvaro and Paulo and just sat there quietly, like they knew Alvaro and Paulo were having a little moment.

“Dad’s still watching us,” Paulo said, still gazing towards that single shining spot in the sky.

“Of course,” Alvaro said. “He’ll always be.”

Franco’s head suddenly popped up from next to Paulo. “That’s Jupiter,” he said.

“Yeah?” Paulo asked.

Isco groaned. “That’s not how you’re supposed to answer him.”

Both Alvaro and Paulo were a little confused until Franco just suddenly started telling them about Jupiter and, like. Loads of crap Alvaro didn’t even listen to. He just sat there watching Franco’s mouth move but not hearing anything.

“Cool,” Paulo said when he could get a word in.

“ _That_ was how you were supposed to answer him,” Isco said. “If you say ‘cool,’ he’ll back off. If you show interest, you can forget about what you were planning to do for the next ten minutes.”

Franco turned back to him and narrowed his eyes. “That’s mean,” he said sadly.

“Awww,” Isco laughed. “I’m just joking. I never say ‘cool.’”

“You do.”

“Well, I mean it. It’s cool.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m not. C’mere. Gimme a kiss.”

“No.”

“C’mon, Franny-bear.”

“You don’t like listening to me talk about space?”

“I was just joking,” Isco said, reaching over and just grabbing Franco and hugging him. “I love listening to you talk about everything.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Don’t be a petty little asshole. I love you.”

And then Franco finally relented and let Isco smooch him on the lips.

“So what did you guys do?” Paulo asked.

“We went skinny-dipping,” Isco said. “My dick is still frozen.”

“Why did I ask?” Paulo asked Alvaro. Alvaro could only laugh.

Alvaro ended up driving them all home because he was the least tired. Paulo sat next to him telling him which roads to follow. Isco and Franco sat in the backseat, each looking out of one window. After a while Isco shimmied over to Franco’s side and latched himself onto Franco like a leech and looked out the same window Franco was looking out of.

Everyone was too exhausted to say a word when they got back to their rooms. They all just headed into their respective bathrooms and took their showers.

When Paulo and Alvaro finished theirs, they found Isco and Franco sitting on the edge of their bed, cleanly showered. Paulo looked surprised, but he was also tired, so he just shoved them gently aside and crawled into bed. Fortunately for him, though, Isco and Franco got up voluntarily and waited for Paulo and Alvaro to get under the sheets.

“Good night, kiddos,” Isco said.

“Night,” Paulo said sleepily. He burrowed his way into Alvaro’s shoulder, completely oblivious to the fact that there were two other people just watching them.

“Night, guys,” Alvaro said, pausing because he wasn’t sure what the both of them were doing.

Isco turned the bedside lamps off. He and Franco retreated to the connecting door between their rooms – but they didn’t walk through it, just stood next to it and whispered to each other, taking occasional glances at Paulo and Alvaro.

“Do you think they’re okay?”

“They look kinda okay.”

“They were being a little sad earlier.”

“That’s not being sad, Alarcon. That’s called having a moment.”

“Well, it was a very long and quiet moment.”

“I think they’re okay.”

“Maybe they’re just tired.”

“Yeah.”

Finally a short silence, but Alvaro peeked and saw the both of them staring over, like they were trying to decide if it was fine to leave Paulo and Alvaro alone.

After a few minutes of complete silence, they retreated into their own room and locked the connecting door.

“Pau,” Alvaro whispered. “You asleep?”

“Hmm?” Paulo murmured.

“We have the best friends in the entire world.”

Paulo smiled. “We really do.”

“I love you so much.”

“Love you too,” Paulo propped himself up the tiniest bit and kissed Alvaro on the lips. “Good night my Alvi.”

“Night, baby,” Alvaro whispered.

Alvaro counted Paulo’s breaths until he fell asleep. Paulo forgot to breathe a few times, but it was alright because Alvaro shook him a little and he started off again with a gasp.

Alvaro fell asleep wishing that he would be there to remind Paulo to breathe every night for the rest of their lives.

\------

Most of the Miami part of their holiday was spent on the beach, no less. Alvaro seemed to be totally up for it, which didn’t surprise Paulo at all. All the time they didn’t spend at the beach, they spent eating, shopping, or at museums; which didn’t surprise Paulo either, because Franco was still the same huge nerd that Paulo remembered him to be.

Alvaro didn’t really show any sort of protest to all their museum-hopping. He was such a bootlicker.

On their last day in Miami before they started their four-day road trip north to New York, they did a last sweep of the shopping streets. They were walking down one of the more familiar ones, with bright pastel-coloured shop fronts lining both sides as they walked east straight towards the beach. Tall palm trees lined the middle of the boulevard. They whispered tales to each other that Paulo couldn’t understand.

Isco and Franco were way behind Paulo and Alvaro because Isco got distracted by literally everything he set his eyes on. And Franco obliged every time. So they were one street behind or something, Paulo didn’t know.

Alvaro suddenly stopped outside a toy shop. He peered inside excitedly and Paulo said, “Alvi, we’ve been here before.”

Which wasn't wrong, because Paulo remembered very clearly that Franco spent a whole half-hour picking out toys for Junior. But Alvaro just said eagerly, “I know. Wait here,” and disappeared inside.

Paulo watched him from the window. He went up to the salesperson and asked him something, and the poor guy looked a little shaken before he led Alvaro towards the back of the store, where Alvaro stayed for a long time. Such a long time, in fact, that Isco and Franco appeared next to Paulo.

“What's happening?” Isco asked.

“Alvi went inside,” Paulo said.

They all watched the top half of Alvaro wander around the shelves near the back of the store, wondering what he was up to. A couple minutes later he paid for whatever he’d found and came back outside.

“What'd you get?” Paulo asked as they all started walking again, now in a group of four.

It turned out to be a mistake because Alvaro made everyone stop before he brandished from his shopping bag –

Four pink soft toys shaped like dicks.

They weren’t even _gross_. They just looked like. Like pink teddies. Except they were phallic. And each of them had a little face on the thicker tip. They had extraordinarily tiny testicles which doubled as feet, so they looked like they were sitting down.

Isco, for one, was totally into it. He grabbed one of them and said excitedly, “Aww, it has little feet!”

“Right?” Alvaro said proudly. He handed one to Paulo. Paulo took it and examined it. It was actually pretty cute. It was _smiling._

Franco was observing all of this silently but warily. He stared at Alvaro when Alvaro took the biggest dick toy out of the bag and tried to give it to Franco.

“Why’s mine the biggest?” he asked, slowly reaching over and taking it. “Is it ‘cause I have the biggest dick?”

“No,” Alvaro said. “It’s ‘cause you _are_ the biggest dick. It matches your personality.”

“Fuck you,” Franco said as Isco and Paulo burst into laughter. He chucked the soft toy at Alvaro; it bounced off Alvaro’s shoulder and landed on the ground, but Franco picked it up and dusted it off before hugging it to himself and storming ahead of everyone else.

Alvaro beamed proudly at Paulo. “He likes it,” he said.

“Yeah,” Paulo laughed. Alvaro looked so fucking pleased with himself.

“Where we going next?” Isco asked. He didn't seem to have any intention of chasing after Franco, instead choosing to just keep an eye on him so they knew which corners to turn.

“Let's go to the beach,” Alvaro suggested, to no one’s surprise at all.

“Wait, that gives me an idea,” Isco said. Everyone leaned in to hear what it was, but Alvaro received a shove in the chest. “Not you. It’s an idea for Paulo and me.”

“Rude,” Alvaro said. He hugged his little pink dick like Franco had been doing and walked ahead of Isco and Paulo.

“What is it?” Paulo asked.

“We take them snorkelling,” Isco said, a hand over his mouth in case Alvaro was peeking. “Except we only rent two sets and we don’t tell them until it’s time to get into the water. Then we send them both in by themselves so they learn to get along.”

Paulo laughed. “And what do we do?”

“We sip on our expensive martinis.”

“Great idea.”

“Alvaro!” Isco called. Which worked, because Alvaro was very obviously trying to eavesdrop. “We’re going snorkelling.”

“And?” Alvaro asked.

“And nothing,” Paulo said.

“There’s no catch?” Alvaro asked.

“Nope,” Isco said.

“There’s a catch.”

“There isn’t.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Suit yourself,” Isco said. “Now we have to tell Franco.”

They all turned to the direction they saw Franco walking last, but Franco seemed to have turned a corner and disappeared.

“Well, he’s gone,” Alvaro pointed out.

“I got it,” Isco said, then took a deep, long breath, and yelled at the top of his lungs, “FRANCO VAZQUEZ!”

Everyone on the street turned around to stare at him, but Isco didn’t seem to care. He just stared intently at the end of the street – at the corner around which Franco eventually popped with a flustered look on his face. Isco beamed as Franco started jogging back towards them, his soft toy tucked under his arm.

“What’s going on?” he asked when he was within earshot. “Jesus, Alarcon, you’re so loud.”

“We’re going snorkelling,” Isco told him in his normal voice as they started walking again, together.

“And?” Franco asked.

“And what?”

“There’s a catch.”

“There’s no catch!”

“I don’t believe you.”

Paulo burst out laughing while Alvaro just glared at him. Which just made Paulo laugh even harder, honestly.

“What?” Alvaro asked once the whole repetition of that ‘there’s a catch’ conversation had ended and Paulo had stopped laughing.

“You guys are so alike,” Paulo grinned.

“We are not.”

“More alike than you think.”

“Name one way we’re alike.”

“You both don’t like hotel towels.”

Alvaro crossed his arms. “There are a lot of people who don’t like hotel towels.”

“You’re both uptight as fuck.”

“I am _not up_ –” Alvaro started agitatedly, but then decided that he was only proving Paulo’s point, so he repeated in a more suitable volume, “I am not uptight.”

Paulo giggled. He _loved_ his uptight Alvaro. “You are. You have been since day one.”

“Have not.”

“Have too.”

Alvaro walked silently after that, just holding on to Paulo’s hand, a mock-angry look on his face. And Paulo was just. He was so _happy_. He _loved Alvaro_ and Alvaro was still the same angry little boy that Paulo had met all those years back. And it always awed Paulo that in all the years that had passed, so many things had changed and yet it still felt like nothing had at all.

And when Paulo looked at Alvaro he still saw his entire world; he still saw his entire universe glittering, reflected in every one of Alvaro’s atoms.

Isco went to get the snorkelling gear when they got to the beach. He quietly told Paulo to keep Alvaro and Franco entertained, so Paulo tried.

“Why do you guys suddenly want to go snorkelling?” Franco asked.

Paulo didn’t know how to answer that, so he blurted, “It was Isco’s idea.” And it wasn’t even a lie. Paulo was so proud of himself.

Franco wrinkled his nose. “I’m gonna find him,” he said, heading towards the equipment store.

“No, wait,” Paulo grabbed his arm. “Just wait here.”

“There’s a catch,” Alvaro told him. “There must be a catch.”

“I know,” Franco said. “I’m trying to figure out what it is.”

Fortunately, Isco returned quickly, with a diving instructor in tow. Each of them was holding one set of snorkelling gear. Isco passed his to Franco and made the dude pass his to Alvaro.

“Go on now,” Isco said, gesturing in the general direction of the beach, after everyone just stood there confused for thirty seconds.

“What about you two?” Alvaro asked.

Franco gave him a hard glare. “That’s the catch,” he said, slowly, like he thought Alvaro was stupid or something. “We’re going. Just the two of us. Alone.”

“No!” Alvaro exclaimed. He turned to Paulo with a pleading look on his face. “Paulo!”

Paulo raised his hands in innocence. Isco said, “You guys come back when you learn how to get along.”

Franco huffed. He put his soft toy back in the bag Paulo was holding and started walking towards the beach. “Come on, Morata,” he called.

Alvaro had no choice but to follow, after reluctantly putting his dick toy into the bag. He looked so nervous Paulo almost caved and went with him. But he just blew a kiss at Alvaro and Alvaro looked significantly more relieved, so Paulo decided maybe he’d stay. Anyway, Franco started talking to Alvaro, which looked like a good sign.

“Are we being mean?” Paulo asked Isco.

“No,” Isco said matter-of-factly. “They need to hang out more.”

“Alvaro’s scared of him.”

“He doesn’t need to be.”

“I know. They actually do get along pretty well when they try.”

“Yeah. They plan stuff together quite well.”

“They’ve had their moments, haven’t they?” Paulo smiled as they began to walk to the nearest beachside bar where they could get a drink. “They’re actually pretty alike.”

“They totally are,” Isco said. “It’s how alike they are that’s causing this conflict.”

“Why do you say that?” Paulo asked.

There was no time for Isco to answer because they had to pause to order. They both got fruit punches after deciding that they’d had enough unhealthiness for the past few days and more alcohol was only going to make it worse. They grabbed their glasses and found some beach chairs and umbrellas near the snorkelling area.

Isco gave a sigh as he pulled his sunglasses down from his head. “You ever think about it?” he asked. “The both of us, me and you. We’re basically in the same situation as they are.”

Paulo gave that a thought. It was easy to see where Isco was coming from. Alvaro’s problem with Franco stemmed from the fact that Franco and Paulo used to be fuck buddies, and now Paulo was together with Alvaro. And the same should have applied to Isco and Paulo – Franco and Paulo used to be fuck buddies, and now Franco was together with Isco. But Isco didn’t hold the same deep-rooted jealousy towards Paulo that Alvaro had, until recently, always held towards Franco.

“Yeah,” Paulo said. “But we aren’t like they are. We get along...right?”

Isco laughed. “Yeah, we do.”

“You don’t secretly think I’m an asshole? You’re not secretly jealous of me?”

“No, shut up,” Isco said. “The thing is that we both understand. We all understand, actually, except Alvaro. We understand that there’s always this compartmentalisation between these things. Between different periods of our lives, or different friendships, different relationships, different feelings. Which is why we’re now all so okay about it. Like, I’m not mad at you for sleeping with Franco before I did because I know that it was a different time in his life and he needed and wanted different things. And neither am I worried that you two would do it again. But Alvaro doesn’t get it. He doesn’t get these things. And because he and Franco are so damn _egoistic_ they just can’t let it go. They can’t open themselves to the fact that this is so much more than just their big egos, that these big egos are preventing them from being friends.”

Paulo smiled. Isco really just. He talked a lot. But it wasn’t nonsense. So Paulo listened.

“Franco doesn’t hate him, you know that, right?” Isco asked.

“Yeah, I know,” Paulo said. “It’s their big egos, like you said. They can’t start actually really getting along because that part of their history is stopping them. Because they keep trying to prove each other wrong.”

“Do you think they’ll ever be friends?”

“I hope so.”

“I mean, _we’re_ friends.”

“That’s ‘cause we don’t have fucking big egos, Isco, and we don’t hate each other ‘cause we’ve slept with each other’s boyfriends.”

“I’ve never slept with Alvaro.”

“You kissed him once, though.”

“Now you sound like Alvaro being a jealous prick.”

Paulo burst into laughter. “Well, I’m not.”

“They’re ridiculous,” Isco said, turning back to the water, where all that was left of Franco and Alvaro for them to see was the tubes of their snorkelling masks.

Paulo took a sip of his fruit punch. It had an alcoholic taste in it. “I think this has rum in it,” Paulo said.

Isco took a sip of his. “Oh,” he said, smacking his lips together. “Well, I guess that’s where the ‘punch’ comes from.”

They sat in silence for a while, sipping their retrospectively-not-so-healthy fruit punches.

“Do you think Alvaro loves me less because I’ve slept with other people?” Paulo asked, just. The thought just suddenly plaguing his mind. And Paulo just desperately needed someone to reassure him, for someone to tell him that he was only imagining things.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Paulo,” Isco said, sitting up in his beach chair and sliding his sunglasses back on his head so he could look more closely at Paulo. “Why would you say that? That’s not what I meant at all.”

“I know, just,” Paulo shrugged. “You know, just a thought.”

“It isn’t that way.”

“It’s just, you know. Maybe the reason Alvaro was so mad and defensive towards Franco was because he thought Franco had tainted me somehow. You know? And that would also mean...that he thinks I’m less. Less than what I was before I slept with Franco. You know?”

“He doesn’t think that at all,” Isco said softly. “Hey. Paulo.”

“Yeah?”

“I’ve known Alvaro since before he met you,” Isco said. “Okay? And he’s hard to understand, you know that as well as I do. But there’s one thing that I’ve never doubted, and it’s that since the first time Alvaro realised that he loved you, he has never, for a single day of his life, loved you any less. No matter what you said or what you did. No matter what you’ve _ever done_. Alvaro has never for any one moment thought that you were any less worth loving. Yeah? I promise you that, Paulo.”

“You think so?” Paulo whispered into his fruit punch, desperately avoiding eye contact with Isco.

Isco nodded. “Whatever kind of game he’s playing with Franco, it’s not because of you. It’s because of himself. It’s because of the way he is, the way he’s always been. He’s always had to convince himself that loving you wasn’t wrong, that being gay or bi wasn’t wrong. And to Alvaro, subconsciously, Franco was an obstacle to Alvaro loving you. Because he was a friend, not some stranger, and he was always so close, and I think in some way it’s made Alvaro feel like he has to get past Franco to get to you. You get that?”

“Yeah,” Paulo said.

“And then when I got together with Franco, maybe...maybe Alvaro felt like first Franco took you away from him, then he took me away from him. Even though it isn't that way. You know? Just sorta makes it look like...like a competition.”

Paulo nodded. Isco was. He was so understanding and so good at putting things into words and it was no wonder at all that Alvaro loved going to him for advice.

“It’s not easy feeling like you aren’t enough,” Isco said kindly. “Neither is it feeling like you have to be more. I know that. I’ve felt that. I think a part of me will always feel that.”

“It’s not Alvaro’s fault, though,” Paulo said. “That I feel like this.”

“I know,” Isco smiled. “It’s not Franco’s fault that I feel like this, too.”

“It’s just. Just that I think he’s so amazing. You know? And I can’t – I can’t live up to that.”

“You know what?”

“What?”

“He probably thinks the same thing about you.”

Paulo smiled. “Yeah?”

“Definitely.”

“Thank you,” Paulo whispered, finally daring to turn to Isco.

Isco gave him a bright smile. “‘Course. Only telling the truth.”

“And you make Franco very happy.”

“You think so?”

“Mmhmm.”

“He makes me happy.”

“Sorry you two had to give up your holiday to watch over us.”

Isco shook his head. “It’s been fun, hasn’t it?”

“Yeah, it has.”

They sat in silence again, for a while. Paulo had never really spoken a lot to Isco. Just a little bit at Paulo’s birthday party that one time. They’d probably exchanged a few sentences with Alvaro around during the entire ordeal of Paulo and Alvaro coming out. And then some more when Isco was going through things with Franco. But that had been all. Paulo and Isco were even less close than Alvaro and Franco. Which made Paulo all the more glad that he got to hang out with Isco during this trip.

“Are we best friends now?” Paulo asked.

Isco burst into laughter. He had this. This really booming, contagious laughter. “If you want to be, yeah.”

“Alvi’s gonna be jealous.”

“Is he ever _not_ jealous?”

“I don’t think so.”

Another silence.

“You know,” Isco said. “I’m really glad we don’t try to climb all over each other like the both of them do.”

Paulo smiled. “Me, too,” he said. “Hey. Isco. I'm sorry for yelling at you that one time.”

“Which time?”

“You know, when you and Franco broke up. The tabloids.”

“Oh,” Isco said softly. “Yeah. Nah. I deserved to be yelled at.”

“I felt mean afterwards.”

Isco laughed. “It’s okay. It's all good.”

“You and Franco are so good.”

Isco smiled. He had his eyes on Franco and they were practically in the shape of hearts. “Mmhmm,” he murmured.

And then it must have been the alcohol but Paulo began to doze under his umbrella, his glass empty and loosely clutched in his hand. Isco was still slurping merrily on his drink. Paulo could see Franco and Alvaro occasionally surface before going back down; they looked like they were having a lot of fun. It made Paulo smile. Alvaro had gotten a few shades tanner after spending most of his days at the beach – the sunlight scattered off the water droplets covering the muscles in his back as he stood up to adjust his mask, and Paulo found himself mesmerised yet again. He didn’t think he would ever stop being mesmerised by his Alvaro.

Isco sat quietly next to Paulo as he dozed, very helpfully catching Paulo’s glass before it hit the ground because Paulo fell asleep. Paulo sighed, opening his eyes a little to look at Alvaro again. He had stood up again and was now crowding over a waterproof camera with Franco, commenting excitedly on whatever photo they’d taken.

“He’s so hot,” Paulo murmured – actually, he thought that he was only thinking it, but it turned out he’d said it out loud.

“Who?” Isco asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

Paulo giggled. “Alvi.”

Isco stared at him for a while, and then stood up. “Okay,” he said. “I’m gonna get you some water before Alvaro murders me for getting you drunk.”

“Did you think I was gonna say Franco?” Paulo giggled again. “Huh?”

“You can’t deny he’s hot, too,” Isco called over his shoulder.

Paulo closed his eyes and fell asleep immediately.

He woke up a while later to Isco force-feeding him water and Alvaro and Franco standing to the side just looking puzzled.

“I don’t understand what’s going on,” Alvaro said slowly.

“You don’t have to!” Isco said, flustered. “Just get him to drink this water.”

“What did you do to him?” Franco asked.

“We got two glasses of fruit punch for ourselves but –”

“Let me guess,” Franco interrupted. “It had alcohol in it.”

“I didn’t know so it’s not my fault!” Isco said. “And _I’m_ not drunk! I don’t know what’s wrong with him!”

“Everyone shut up, I’ll drink the water,” Paulo said. Or tried to say. He thought maybe all his words were sort of strung together.

Anyway, it worked. Everyone shut up and watched as he gulped down the entire glass of water. Then Alvaro helped him stand up and Paulo could stand on his own but he leaned into Alvaro’s arms instead because they were suddenly so comfortable.

“Hi,” Paulo cooed.

Alvaro laughed. “Hi, you.”

“Sorry I got drunk,” Paulo said. “Wait, I’m not drunk.”

“Okay,” Alvaro said, smiling.

“Did you have fun?”

“Mmhmm. I had lots of fun.”

“Was Franco mean to you?”

“Nope.”

“You two know how to get along now?”

“Yeah.”

“Good,” Paulo sighed. “Or Isco will be super sad. And I don’t want him to be sad. ‘Cause he’s my friend.”

Alvaro said nothing, just laughed like it was a little funny. Which it probably was and Paulo was too drunk to notice. What was Paulo doing anyway, getting drunk over one glass of fruit punch? Jesus, Paulo was such a mess. It was a wonder why Alvaro still loved him.

Alvaro bought them two bottles of mineral water, and then found an umbrella close to the water. He sat down and made Paulo sit between his legs, looking out at the clear water. He wrapped his arms around Paulo and held one of the bottles of water to Paulo’s lips so Paulo could take a sip whenever he wanted.

And Paulo just melted right into him, half because the sun was so hot and half because it was just so convenient and it was Paulo’s favourite place in the entire world.

“What did you two talk about?” Alvaro asked.

Paulo turned his head so his cheek was resting on Alvaro’s collarbone and his shoulder. Alvaro was smiling this gentle smile down at him, the _gentlest_ smile in the world, the sort of smile that he saved just for Paulo.

“Nothing much,” Paulo whispered. “Just ‘bout how much I love you.”

Alvaro’s smile turned into a grin, like he was happy that Paulo went around boasting of his love for Alvaro. He leaned over and gave Paulo a lingering kiss on the lips. He tasted like salty seawater and it was Paulo’s favourite taste in the world.

\------

So while Alvaro nursed drunk Paulo under a beach umbrella, Isco and Franco got themselves a jetski.

They took turns being the driver and Isco nearly got into trouble because he was too adventurous and rode past the buoys marking the safe jetski zone. But whenever Franco took over Isco would complain that he was going too slowly. Franco was only going three or four units under the speed limit. He could _never win_.

He ended up just surrendering the driving responsibilities to Isco. He enjoyed it more that way, anyway, because he got to look out at their surroundings while flying across the ocean. And he got to rest his chin on Isco’s shoulder and listen to Isco’s excited laughter, he got to feel it vibrating through his bones. He got to watch Isco’s hair fly in the backwards breeze, even though it meant it flapped straight into Franco’s face sometimes. And he got to wrap his arms around Isco’s waist and hold Isco close to him.

Paulo and Alvaro soon joined in the fun on their own jetski, although Paulo was _technically_ drunk-driving. Isco very kindly pointed that out to him, but only succeeded in earning himself a challenge on who would win a race between the both of them.

They raced from one end of the zone to the other and Isco won because he went _way over the speed limit_ with Franco clinging onto him for dear life, thinking to himself, _‘this is how I’m going to die.’_

Paulo and Alvaro eventually scooted off to do their own thing. Isco brought their jetski to the edge of the zone and just stopped there, turning off the engine so they bobbed along with the waves, facing the faraway horizon. The sun was setting behind them, but the sky was mostly clear and it cast a brilliant yellow hue over the water. It quickly turned to pastel shades as the sun descended behind the city buildings.

“So did you have fun with Alvaro?” Isco asked as Franco tucked his chin into Isco’s shoulder again.

Franco smiled. It _had_ been kinda fun. “Yeah, I did.”

“You two know how to get along now?”

“Mmhmm.”

Isco gave a little chuckle. He leaned back into Franco’s arms so his head was resting on Franco’s shoulder. Franco pressed his cheek against Isco’s.

“Did you take lots of photos?” Isco asked.

“Yeah. I’ll show you when I get them from Alvaro.”

“I’m so happy you had fun.”

“The fishies were cute,” Franco offered.

Isco laughed like the word ‘fishies’ amused him. “I had fun with Paulo, too.”

“Yeah? What did you talk about?”

“Nothing, just about Alvaro.”

“They’re okay, you think?”

“They are,” Isco smiled. “I think they always will be, you know? It’s just...I don’t want to be not there for them in case they aren’t. You know?”

“Mmhmm.”

“It’s like, their relationship,” Isco said slowly. “It’s like our baby. Our child. We’ve watched it grow and now it’s eight years old and I’m not going to give up on it. You know?”

Franco nodded. Isco had the _biggest heart in the world_ and Franco loved all of him and he thought he would never get tired of Isco trying to help everybody he knew. And Franco was. Franco was suddenly so _scared_ that he was going to lose Isco again, suddenly terrified that this moment they were having was only temporary.

“I love you, Isco Alarcon,” Franco whispered.

Isco smiled and it was the most beautiful thing Franco had ever set his eyes on. He kissed Franco softly on the lips. He tasted like the sea breeze Franco had been breathing in. “I love you so much.”

They sat there quietly, all wrapped up in one another, watching the sky turn a variety of colours from the sunset behind them. Pink-bottomed clouds drifted across the cornflower blue sky and Isco pointed them out to Franco, comparing them to shapes Franco hadn’t even thought about. They were soon out of sight and replaced by little flaky remnants of independence blue clouds against the night sky. Franco watched Jupiter disappear and reappear from behind them multiple times.

“You cold?” he asked Isco, wrapping his arms more tightly around Isco’s waist for warmth.

Isco shook his head. “I’m having such a good time,” he whispered.

And that was literally all that had ever mattered to Franco, so he sat there with Isco until Isco made up his mind that he’d had enough and was cold. They turned on the warning light on their jetski and headed back to shore, where Paulo and Alvaro were waiting in the back of the van playing some game on their phones. Then they headed back to their hotel and Franco realised that this wasn’t the first time he was around Isco when he thought he was happier than he’d ever been in his life.

\------

Their last Miami night was spent in Isco and Franco’s room, chugging bottles of orange soda and acting weird.

When Alvaro pointed out that they were all acting weird being high and laughy on orange soda, Franco pointed out, “Maybe _we’re_ acting weird, but you’re not acting weird if it’s your normal state, Morata,” so Alvaro gave up.

“I thought you two learnt how to get along,” Isco said.

Franco shrugged. He chugged more orange soda.

“Let’s play Truth or Dare,” Isco said.

Paulo narrowed his eyes. “Why?” he asked.

“I don’t know, I’m bored.”

“Is there even anything we don’t know about each other?” Alvaro asked.

“You don’t know my middle name,” Franco said.

And Alvaro had never bothered to find out, so he kept quiet.

Franco picked up an empty plastic bottle and put it in the middle of the crooked circle they were sitting in. He pointed the mouth at himself. “Oh, look, it’s pointing at me. You can ask me my middle name.”

Alvaro glared at him. Isco offered, “It’s Damian.”

“Thanks,” Alvaro said.

“Why don’t we mix it up a little?” Isco asked. He seemed bent on playing this dumb game. “So when the bottle points to someone, instead of people getting to ask him a question, why not _he_ gets to ask the others a question? Or to do something?”

Everyone was totally up for it after that.

“You guys are so fucking easy,” Franco grumbled, like he hadn’t also agreed to play this much more fun-sounding version of the game. Isco filled the bottle with some water so it’d be easier to spin. He spun it and it pointed at Franco. “Jesus fucking Christ,” Franco said.

Isco raised his eyebrows in encouragement.

Franco sighed. “Fine. I don’t know. Talk about your first kiss.”

Isco went first, talking a little about his first kiss with a girl at school in the school hallway. Franco seemed pretty interested in that, though not in the petty way, just curiously. Then Alvaro talked about his first kiss when he was fourteen at someone’s birthday party, the one with too much tongue and teeth and which Alvaro would never forget for all the wrong reasons.

And then Paulo talked about his first kiss with Alvaro but he was being totally _shy_ about it, blushing and stammering, and Alvaro felt so _fond_.

It was Paulo’s turn next and he asked everyone to say their favourite memory of each other. Which was kinda unfair, because Alvaro had a thousand favourite memories and they all involved Paulo.

And then it was Franco’s turn again and he got so exasperated it was actually really funny. He dared the three of them to compete to see who could finish an entire bottle of orange soda the quickest. Paulo and Alvaro pretended to participate, but Isco wasn’t so smart. He was about three-quarters through a bottle when he realised Paulo and Alvaro were just sipping.

“You guys are so fucking rude,” he said, wiping his mouth. Franco started laughing and Isco glared at him. “You’re supposed to be on my side!”

“Am I?” Franco laughed. He spinned the bottle and it landed on Isco.

Isco gave one loud huff. Then he said, “I dare Alvaro to kiss Franco.”

A single beat of silence.

“What,” Alvaro and Franco said at the same time.

“On the lips,” Isco added, just in case.

“Why?” Franco asked.

“I’m not going to ask you to kiss each other on the cheek, that’s so lame.”

“No, why are we kissing each other _at all_?”

“Because this is Truth or Dare!”

“No fair,” Alvaro complained. “Paulo doesn’t get a dare.”

“Look around you,” Isco said. “There’s only one person in the circle you’ve never kissed. For me, it’s Paulo. You, Franco. Paulo, me. Franco, you.”

Everyone stared at him.

“Maybe I should kiss Paulo to demonstrate,” Isco continued. “That’ll be his dare.”

Alvaro narrowed his eyes. _Isco_ wanted to kiss _his Paulo_? He turned to Paulo and saw Paulo already watching him.

“I won’t do it if you don’t want me to,” Paulo said.

Alvaro sighed internally. Maybe it was no big deal. After all, these things meant differently to all of them, right? Right?

“What about me and…” Alvaro gestured vaguely in Franco’s direction. “Would you? Mind?”

Paulo shook his head.

God, Alvaro wasn’t sure how he was going to handle seeing Paulo kiss someone else right in front of him. Especially if that person was _Isco_. He fucking bet Isco had been thinking about this for a long time. Alvaro wouldn’t even be surprised. Isco was the biggest minx Alvaro had _ever_ met.

But then a little part of him also _really_ wanted to see Isco and Paulo kiss. Just. Just to see how it made him feel. Besides, he trusted Isco.

He gave Paulo and Isco a little ‘go ahead’ wave of the hand.

Isco didn’t actually ask Franco verbally. He just turned to Franco and Franco gave him a little smile and Isco got on his knees, closer to Paulo, who was opposite him in the circle.

They both leaned forward until their lips touched, eyes fluttering shut upon impact. And Alvaro thought they were done, he thought a peck on the lips was all, but instead he saw Isco’s hands landing on Paulo’s arms and his lips parting for another kiss – _and_ Paulo reciprocating it. And fuck, they looked so fucking into it. Even Paulo. Because Alvaro knew that Paulo had always been into kissing, no matter who it was with. And fuck. Alvaro had never thought he would ever be sitting and watching his boyfriend make out with someone else.

But instead of jealousy – instead of overwhelming jealousy like he’d expected, Alvaro felt this. This flicker of arousal. It was enough of a flicker for him to sit there and watch them making out for a few more seconds before jealousy’s finger finally began to nudge at him so he put his hands on their shoulders and said, “Hey, hey.”

Paulo gave a little giggle as Isco pulled away and sat back down, licking his lips. “He’s a good kisser,” Isco said.

“That’s what literally everyone says after kissing him,” Alvaro said. And it was true. If there was some sort of competition for the best kisser in the world, Paulo would probably win it.

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Paulo said shyly.

And Alvaro was so relieved yet _surprised_ by how not jealous he was about Isco kissing Paulo that he actually forgot that now it was his and Franco’s turn until Paulo nudged him and said, “It’s your turn.”

Alvaro swallowed hard. Franco was seated across from him and he was just peering warily at Alvaro waiting for Alvaro to make a move. Or for a sign for him to make a move. Alvaro was frozen. He didn’t know what to do.

He turned to his left and Isco was watching him, big eyes blinking slowly, looking encouraging.

He turned to his right and Paulo was looking at him with the same gaze of utter affection he had showered Alvaro with since day one. There wasn’t even the minutest difference. Like he would gladly support Alvaro whatever he decided to do or not to do. Like his feelings for Alvaro would never change whether Alvaro decided to kiss Franco.

And that was. That was actually a pretty mature thing to think. After all, Paulo and Alvaro had kissed numerous other people before. They all didn’t mean anything. It was like Franco had told Alvaro before their holiday. To them, kissing was just – kissing. The physical action didn’t mean as much as the emotional implications.

Alvaro suddenly couldn’t believe it was just his first time realising the truth of that statement.

Alvaro got on his knees, landing in the middle of the circle. Franco blinked once in hesitation, then got on his knees as well, so his face ended up barely an inch away from Alvaro’s. The last time Alvaro had been so close to Franco – well. The last time was earlier that day when they’d been snorkelling and Alvaro had bumped into Franco.

But the _last_ time was way back a few years when they’d gotten into a fight at Paulo’s house and Franco had headbutted Alvaro.

Franco gently tilted Alvaro’s chin upwards with his hand. His fingers were. They were a little clammy, like Franco was nervous. Alvaro took some joy in that.

And then Franco leaned forward and pressed his lips gently on Alvaro’s; just a little peck on the lips, softly, his fingers curling into a ball under Alvaro’s chin. His lips were dry but soft underneath and besides the taste of orange soda they actually tasted pretty good. They parted and surrounded Alvaro’s lips firmly, a real kiss this time, and Alvaro – _God,_ Alvaro swore if his dick betrayed him he was just gonna quit life and become a monk forever.

Alvaro peeked a little and saw Franco’s eyes closed. He looked totally into the kiss. Or maybe he was just trying to give Alvaro a good time. Whatever it was, he looked. Well. He actually looked pretty hot. He pulled away after a few seconds and Alvaro almost went in for another one but decided otherwise.

He settled back in his seat only to see Isco and Paulo gazing eagerly at him. _Both_ of them, like they’d both silently agreed that Franco would be totally chill about it and Alvaro was the one they should seek a reaction from.

“So?” Isco was the first to speak, like he was asking Alvaro about his boyfriend’s kissing skills.

Alvaro shrugged. “What?”

“How was it?”

“Um,” Alvaro said lamely. “Not bad?”

“Not bad?” Isco repeated. “That’s all?”

Alvaro didn’t reply him, just jabbed his finger at the bottle so Isco would spin it and they could move on with their lives. It wasn’t that Alvaro didn’t want to reply him. Alvaro just. Alvaro _really liked the kiss_.

It wasn’t even that Alvaro liked _Franco_. He was pretty sure he just liked Franco as a friend. But he also liked kissing Franco more than he had ever expected himself to. He was momentarily just. Just stunned. Confused.

When the bottle stopped spinning, it was pointing at Alvaro.

Alvaro sighed.

He said the first thing that came to his mind.

“I dare Paulo to kiss Franco.”

Paulo blinked at him a few times, turning to exchange glances with an equally confused Franco before asking, “Me and Franco?”

Alvaro nodded.

“You...you're sure?”

Alvaro nodded again. He’d just. Just realised that he had _never seen Franco and Paulo kiss._ After so many years. Alvaro had always heard about it but he had never seen it with his own eyes. It had always happened behind closed doors. “I just. Um. It sounds lame but I just...I need to see it. You know? After the last round. I just have to...to check myself. And I need you – Paulo, I need you to kiss Franco. I need to see it.”

“‘Kay,” Paulo whispered. He twisted his body towards Franco, who was sitting on his right. They both leaned forward and met each other in the middle, lips gently pressed together. They kissed softly for three short seconds, then pulled apart.

Paulo continued looking at Alvaro with that same expression.

Alvaro swallowed audibly. There was no burning rage in his stomach. Not the burning rage that he had expected. Not the burning rage he had felt when he’d walked in on Paulo lying down with Franco. It was just a little nagging itch at the back of his mind, a nagging itch that wasn’t even because of the fact that Paulo and Franco had made out a little, but more because he didn’t get why the rage was missing. More because he looked at Paulo and he felt the same love he’d felt for Paulo for eight years and not one drop less, and Paulo was still looking at him with the same bright eyes Alvaro loved so much, with the same love and adoration that Alvaro always held so close to his heart. More because Paulo _looked straight back at Alvaro_ once the kiss ended, and didn’t linger on Franco whatsoever. _And_ Alvaro knew Paulo wasn’t just putting on a show, because come on, Paulo even had trouble lying about what time he’d woken up.

He thought – he thought maybe he was beginning to understand.

Paulo grabbed the bottle and pointed it at himself, and Alvaro could _feel_ Isco begin to realise what a horrible idea this topsy-turvy Truth or Dare was.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Paulo asked.

Alvaro shook his head. Maybe not right then. Maybe not _ever._

When no one responded, he reached for the bottle and spun it. It landed on Paulo.

“Are you mad at me?” Paulo asked immediately. Though it was stupid, because Alvaro was the one who’d asked Paulo to kiss Franco.

“Um,” Isco said. “You’re not the only two playing this game, you know.”

Paulo blinked at him, then said, “Okay, is anyone mad at anyone?”

Isco and Franco shook their heads. Paulo turned back to Alvaro.

Alvaro shook his head, too, albeit more slowly.

Paulo hesitated before asking, “Kiss?”

Alvaro nodded this time, keening forward so Paulo could press his lips gently on Alvaro’s. And Alvaro felt. He felt this rush of feeling that almost knocked him off the bed, this gust of relief at the familiarity that was Paulo’s lips. The lips he had wanted to kiss for longer than he could even remember. The lips that would always feel like home.

Yes, yes, Alvaro knew – he knew that they were just lips and everybody had them. But it wasn’t really the lips that mattered.

It was the person the lips came with.

Paulo pulled away with a smile, giving Alvaro a soft peck on the nose before sitting back down. His green eyes were bright again and unworried, like kissing Alvaro had given him some answers. They had given Alvaro some answers, too. Along with Alvaro’s kiss with Franco. Fuck, if only Alvaro had known that all the answers he’d ever wanted to have lay in just a single kiss with someone else who wasn’t his boyfriend. _If only he had known_. There would have been much less trouble and drama.

Alvaro had always known who he loved, of course, he didn’t need any kissing to know that. But Alvaro just. He guessed he’d never been able to tell romantic attraction apart from other kinds of attraction. To Alvaro, they always seemed to come together. If he was sexually attracted to someone, it seemed natural to him that he would be romantically attracted to them, too. That was one part of Isco he’d never managed to understand. And Franco. Alvaro had never dared to stray out of this comfort zone he’d set up for himself.

Paulo spun the bottle. It pointed at Isco.

There was the _longest_ silence Alvaro had ever experienced coming from Isco. He spent it with his eyes darting from Franco, to Paulo, to Alvaro, then back a few times.

Then he asked, “Have you guys ever thought of having a foursome?”

Fortunately, no one had been sipping on anything, or Alvaro was sure there was going to be a pool of orange soda in the middle of their circle. There was just. Just silence. Total, complete silence. Alvaro was sure Isco was still staring at everyone but he wasn’t sure because he didn’t dare to look.

Then Franco said, in the tiniest, _tiniest_ voice, “Yes.”

Alvaro’s head shot up to look at him. So did Paulo’s and Isco’s. He was looking down at his lap timidly, long fingers fiddling with each other, waiting for someone else to say something.

“Me, too,” Isco whispered. When Franco turned to look at him, he hurriedly looked away.

Alvaro shifted his gaze to Paulo, who looked _terrified_. Terrified of what he wanted to say. Like he was afraid it was going to be the wrong answer. Alvaro returned his petrified look with one of his own; it was no effort, really, for Alvaro was sure the terror on his own face had only increased when Isco had agreed with Franco.

He tilted his head to the side, urging Paulo to answer.

He saw Paulo’s Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed hard. Paulo closed his eyes and hung his head. Then he murmured, “Yeah.”

And then the next moment – the next moment, in _the very same instant_ , perfectly coordinated like they were three parts of a well-oiled machine, like they all _instantly knew_ what the implications of Paulo’s positive answer was – all three of their heads shot towards Alvaro.

They waited. Alvaro said nothing. He didn’t know what to _say_. Of course, if Isco had asked that question five minutes ago, Alvaro’s answer would have been a straight no.

But after kissing Franco – after kissing Franco and seeing Paulo kiss Isco _and Franco_ and well. Just basically all the kissing that had been going on. Alvaro thought this could be a little fun. It was harmless, anyway, because of how well they knew each other and how sex was to all of them.

He couldn’t put that into words before Isco, sensing the awkwardness in the air, cleared his throat and reached to spin the bottle.

Alvaro didn’t know what had gotten into him when he leaned forward and placed a hand on Isco’s to stop him. Everyone turned to stare at Alvaro again and Alvaro wished that they would _stop fucking doing that._

“How would – how would that, um,” Alvaro took his hand off Isco’s and waved it vaguely. “Happen?”

“We –“ Isco stammered, like he’d been knocked off guard. “Would you like us to...demonstrate?”

 _Demonstrate?_ Like, Paulo getting to kiss them both _again?_

Alvaro was both a little jealous and a little turned on by that.

“Uh,” he said. “Yeah. I guess.”

Isco gave a little nod. He turned to Franco, who was already practically waiting for him. They grabbed on to the back of each other’s necks, so quickly and smoothly it was as if they’d rehearsed it, and let their lips crash against each other. They kissed hungrily, _ferociously_ , for a while, like this whole session had turned them both on as much as it had turned Alvaro on. But Franco eventually pulled away, realising that this demonstration was pointless if he just kept making out with Isco. His lips left Isco’s with a reluctant pop, and he sat there for half a breathless beat before he turned his head to his other side – where Paulo was waiting, crouching on his hands and knees.

The kiss Franco shared with Paulo was much less enthusiastic, much less starving. It was much calmer, lips slowly working on each other’s like they were back on familiar territory but needed time to get used to it again. Isco hovered closely, pressing himself up against Franco’s side and brushing his lips against Franco’s cheek, waiting for his turn.

It came soon enough, when Franco pulled away and gave Paulo a gentle shove towards Isco. He watched briefly as they kissed, and then started nibbling at Isco’s ear, causing Isco to gasp and Paulo to take that opportunity to shove his tongue into Isco’s mouth, and. Alvaro thought again _God,_ he didn't know _what the fuck_ had gotten into him that he would let Paulo kiss someone else like that right in front of him.

But he ignored it. Maybe that night he was just going to wing it. After all, it wasn't like he wasn't enjoying it. Maybe he’d deal with the consequences later. Alvaro had always been good at that.

Franco suddenly pulled all of them apart. They sat there gasping for breath, staring first at each other, then at Alvaro.

After a few moments of silence from Alvaro, everyone slowly retreated to their original seats.

“Wait,” Alvaro said, causing everyone to freeze again, and if he hadn’t been so distracted by the little pool of desire in his pelvis then he would’ve been really impressed at how he could just command everyone’s actions like that. “Okay.”

“Okay…?” Isco repeated.

Alvaro gulped a heavy breath. “Let’s do it.”

Another silence, followed by Paulo wrapping his fingers around Alvaro’s wrist. “You sure?”

Alvaro stared at him. He couldn't help but wonder how long Paulo had been thinking about this and – and if all the time he had, he was just being held back by Alvaro. Because even though Alvaro had had the most initial experience, as they’d grown up Alvaro had become the least sexually promiscuous out of all of them especially with men, _and_ the most jealous on top of that. And maybe that was just holding Paulo back.

But that was for another day. Questions for another day.

Alvaro wasn’t sure what was getting into him. Maybe he was just jealous that everyone was getting to kiss Paulo and he wanted to join in the fun. Maybe he was hitting a curiosity streak that all three of them had experienced in their earlier years but Alvaro hadn’t. Maybe he was just horny.

Alvaro nodded.

“Okay,” Franco whistled through his teeth. He leaned forward, palms slapping on the mattress. “Rules.”

“Fuck rules,” Isco commented, still just fucking plastered against Franco like a leech. He cupped a hand around Franco’s growing bulge. “Let's start.”

Franco gave in for a while, devouring Isco’s lips like they were a slab of meat and Franco hadn’t eaten in five days. Then he shoved Isco aside and banged his hands on the bed again. “C’mon. Rules.”

“Rule number one: no rules,” Isco said.

“Alarcon!”

“Fine,” Isco grumbled. He glanced around the circle like he was looking for his next target. Unfortunately, he stopped on Alvaro. “Morata. Gimme a kiss. You haven’t kissed me tonight.”

 _God,_ Alvaro was so fucking _nervous_. He had no idea where all of this had stemmed from, though he couldn’t deny that once this thought had been planted in his head, there was no way to get it out. Fuck, it was all Isco’s fucking fault. Him and his stupid dare for Alvaro to kiss Franco. It had ruined _everything_. _Everything Alvaro had ever known_.

Alvaro gestured weakly at Franco, who was still leaning forward and now looking so desperate with his brows slanting down the sides. “Rules,” he said.

Isco sighed and that was the last sound he was allowed to make.

“First rule,” Franco said, slapping the bed with each syllable. “This stays between the four of us. Nothing outside this room.”

Everyone nodded.

“Next. We’re all allowed to kiss and fuck any other person and no one is going to get angry.”

Alvaro knew that was directed at him. He gave Franco a glance, but Franco just continued.

“Third rule. We all have to agree that if any single one of us decides midway that he’s totally not into this, he has to say it. And we’ll stop this immediately. Okay?”

Everyone nodded again.

“Fourth. Everyone has to consent. I know we’ve all thought about this but think about doing it _right now_ and tell everyone if you want it.”

“I want to,” Isco said, eyes going around the circle. “Yeah.”

Paulo nodded. Franco asked him to say it out loud, which he did.

“Morata,” Franco said, and he didn’t sound angry or harsh or pushy. He just. Just sounded genuinely concerned. “Are you okay with this? It’s really okay if you're not. You just have to tell us.”

Alarm bells were ringing all around Alvaro but he nodded, anyway, not being able to deny that he just wanted it to start right away so he could figure out what it was he was feeling in his crotch.

“Fifth rule. Everyone say their preference right now so we all know what we shouldn’t do,” Franco said. When everyone stared at him, he rolled his eyes. “I’m a top. Strictly.”

“Bottom,” Isco said. “But I can be a top, too, it’s just, like. I don’t really like it.”

“I’m flexible,” Paulo said quietly.

A brief pause before Alvaro managed to say, “Me, too.”

“Sixth rule. It's not really a rule. Everyone has gone for their check the past month, right?”

Everyone nodded obediently.

“Last rule,” Franco said, and Isco looked like he was ready to pounce. “We all know this is gonna be the only time we do this. So we’re gonna make it the best one. ‘Kay?”

“Fucking hell yes,” Isco said. “Can I kiss Alvaro now?”

Franco gave a ‘go ahead’ wave. Isco practically _leapt_ at Alvaro, and Alvaro just. Alvaro felt himself let go. He felt something literally leave his body; probably all his inhibitions, all the doubts he had ever had about himself, or about Paulo, or even about Franco. He received Isco’s leap by grasping his waist and letting Isco’s lips crash against his, trying to forget at least momentarily how Isco had probably been thinking about this, about kissing Alvaro again, since they’d done it for the first time four years ago. Just like he had always talked about kissing anyone at all to Alvaro.

He felt Isco recoil briefly in surprise. He pulled Isco back closer, his tongue wandering between Isco’s lips as they parted. Kissing Isco felt. Felt like nothing at all. Okay, so Alvaro did feel the pool of desire in his belly suddenly expand. And he felt a little, _again_ , like he was cheating on Paulo, but.

But the next instant he heard Paulo give the tiniest giggle and he felt Paulo hold his hand and tug on it like he wanted some attention, and Alvaro knew immediately that this wasn’t wrong. That he wasn’t doing something wrong, that he wasn’t, for fuck’s sake, cheating on Paulo. Not since both he and Paulo seemed to want this just as much.

There was suddenly someone pulling Isco away and Alvaro let him go. Paulo started nudging his nose against Alvaro’s cheek, and Alvaro saw that Paulo’s shirt was already off, and so was Franco’s, and Alvaro briefly wondered what he was supposed to do. Like, was he supposed to take Isco’s shirt off? And his own? He hesitated for a moment and witnessed Isco’s shirt practically being ripped off into shreds by Franco, so. That problem was solved.

Alvaro pressed his lips on Paulo’s and it felt like returning home after a really long day.

“You okay?” Paulo asked, gently pushing Alvaro on his back so he could climb on him.

Alvaro nodded. “Just a little,” he started, but had to clear his throat. “Just a little scared.”

“Fuck, me too,” Paulo whispered. He found Alvaro’s hands and intertwined their fingers. “I'm fucking _shaking,_ Alvi.”

“You sure you want to do this?” Alvaro asked.

Paulo nodded. “You?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro sighed, running a hand through his hair. “It’s just. Just something I’ve never thought about. Until today.”

“We can stop anytime you want.”

“I know, I know,” Alvaro kissed him on the nose. “I just, I –” he tried, but he didn’t know what exactly to _say_ , so he kissed Paulo again, nipping and biting and swallowing all of Paulo’s gasps. “I love you. I always will. The fact that – that we’re doing this. That I _want_ this. It doesn’t change anything. Yeah?”

Paulo appeared relieved to hear that. He smiled at Alvaro with his adorable, slightly swollen lips. “I love you, too.”

“Would it – like, change anything for you?”

Paulo shook his head. “Never,” he whispered.

Then he dove in again on Alvaro’s lips, lingering on them for a while before wandering to Alvaro’s jaw and down his neck. He slipped Alvaro’s shirt off over his head with his tiny, gentle hands, before kissing a trail down Alvaro’s abdomen and to the waistband of his pants. He reached beneath it and found Alvaro’s dick, already hard and _begging_ for someone’s touch. Anyone’s.

Alvaro’s eyes snapped shut when Paulo started to blow him. His lips were soft, though they sucked hard on Alvaro’s tip before lowering themselves down Alvaro’s length; and his hands were kind, caressing the skin of Alvaro’s thighs while he pulled Alvaro’s pants down them. When Alvaro opened his eyes again Isco was right there, hovering over him, eyes a little dazed. He leaned over and kissed Alvaro again, wetter and harder than before, both their tongues wrestling for control. And Alvaro was just. This was one of his closest friends in the whole wide world. Alvaro had known him since they were practically babies. And now they were _making out_ _for real_.

Isco suddenly pulled away to gasp, and Alvaro wondered what was going on before he took a look around and saw Franco’s face shoved in between Isco’s ass cheeks. Franco’s hand was caught in between Paulo’s legs, doing something that was causing Paulo to stutter on Alvaro’s dick.

Alvaro turned back to Isco and grabbed a handful of Isco’s hair. Isco looked distracted and still dazed. But before Alvaro could pull him back in for another kiss, he said, “Blow me.”

And Jesus, Alvaro had literally _never_ blown anyone except Paulo and honestly no one could deny that Paulo loved anything Alvaro was willing to do to him, so Alvaro actually didn’t know how good his blowjob skills were. But he decided on the spot that maybe this was the only time he was ever going to get a chance to find out, so he nodded.

Then Isco made Alvaro get up, which jostled everyone else from their positions. He lay on his back and Alvaro. Alvaro just went for it, wrapping his lips around the tip of Isco’s dick and running his tongue over Isco’s slit. It felt. It felt different. Isco was – he was a little wider than Paulo, giving Alvaro a little bit more difficulty when he lowered his mouth over Isco’s length and tried swirling his tongue. Especially because Isco was so _twitchy_. He tried thrusting his hips up towards Alvaro but Alvaro put a hand on them to stop him because he didn’t want to fucking _choke to death_ on Isco’s dick.

There was suddenly a face at Alvaro’s ass, tongue flicking at his hole – and Alvaro knew that was Paulo, because Franco had found a seat on Isco’s face and was currently fucking the hell out of it. Which was firstly rude, because it meant Isco got more twitchy and Alvaro had a higher choking risk, and was secondly a sign that Alvaro was going to get fucked in the ass that night. Which, well. It was a pretty exciting thing to think about.

They went at it for a while, and _God_ , Alvaro was practically dripping precome all over the bed. He turned himself around to embrace Paulo, which made Isco whimper for a while until Franco pacified him by shifting to his crotch area and doing things to it, changing the whimpers to loud moans.

It was Alvaro’s turn to push Paulo on his back. Paulo reacted with the most _adorable_ giggle and Alvaro briefly wondered again how he could both love Paulo so fucking much _and_ still want to fuck everyone else in this room. Another time, he told himself. Another time.

Alvaro wet his fingers in his mouth before slowly sliding one into Paulo’s hole. He watched Paulo’s mouth fall open in a silent gasp, and then his bright eyes open to make contact with Alvaro’s. Alvaro gently massaged the muscle of Paulo’s hole, nudging it more open, watching Paulo’s eyes turn darker with each slight movement. His hand reached blindly for Alvaro’s and Alvaro obliged, wrapping his fingers around Paulo’s and holding Paulo’s hand against his thigh. He felt. He felt so _close_ to Paulo in that moment despite everything else that was happening. He crouched down to run his tongue over Paulo’s length and Paulo gave this soft exhale of arousal which in turn made Alvaro’s dick twitch a little.

He found out a little while later that it wasn't so much his dick twitching as it was Franco grabbing it from behind. He pressed his body up against the back of Alvaro’s, his cock pressing hard against the small of Alvaro’s back, forcing Alvaro to tear his eyes away from Paulo as Isco leaned over him and Paulo succumbed to his silent request to make out.

Franco kissed the back of Alvaro’s neck as his hand stroked Alvaro’s dick with some determination. He slowly moved over Alvaro’s right shoulder, and then down to the area between his shoulder blades. His lips were soft and gentle and his other hand was just wandering all around Alvaro’s abdomen and his waist, and it was also equally soft and gentle. And a little hesitant, probably. He kissed his way back up to Alvaro’s shoulder and rested his chin on it.

“You okay?” he asked.

Alvaro nodded, touched at all the concern everyone was providing him. He twisted his head around, letting his lips find Franco’s. Franco’s lips were kind, like they were afraid to cross a line. They tasted _so fucking good_ , though, almost as good as Paulo’s. And Franco used them mercilessly, nibbling hard at Alvaro’s mouth. Alvaro kept wanting more, he just kept chasing more and soon he just dumped Paulo altogether and turned to face Franco, suddenly realising that _this_ was why both Paulo and Isco had loved having sex with Franco so much. _This was why_. Alvaro had finally gotten a taste of it.

Franco pulled away, and he didn't make direct eye contact with Alvaro. Didn't even look at Alvaro, actually, or touch Alvaro’s hair or kiss his cheek. It made Alvaro realize, again, how easy it was to just have sex with Franco without any feelings. Franco just glanced towards Isco and Paulo and said, “Go there and let Dybala blow you, too. At the same time.”

And Alvaro turned and Paulo was already _blowing Isco_ , and his mouth was so teeny and Alvaro had doubts that he could even actually properly hold Isco’s dick in there, much less _both_ his and Alvaro’s. He crawled over to Paulo and straddled one of Paulo’s shoulders, nudging his dick against Paulo’s cheek. Paulo’s eyes popped open and his hand moved to cup Alvaro’s dick but Alvaro started moving towards Paulo’s mouth, looking for an opening, hand curling over Paulo’s to guide it. Paulo seemed to get the gist after a while, stretching his mouth open wider. Isco, too, retreated a little.

There was this dazzling jolt of electricity that shot up Alvaro’s spine when he managed to slide his tip just into Paulo’s mouth, a snug fit with Isco’s. It was – holy _fuck_ , Paulo looked so. He looked so fucking hot all submissive to Isco and Alvaro and each of his arms had curled underneath Isco and Alvaro, finding their holes and teasing them. Alvaro gave a gentle thrust, trying to see how far into Paulo’s mouth he could go. The friction produced another jolt of electricity.

Isco pulled his dick out of Paulo’s mouth to rub it against Paulo’s jaw, providing Alvaro with full access to Paulo’s now terribly swollen lips. Alvaro built up a new rhythm thrusting into it, occasionally gasping when Isco joined in, frotting his dick against Alvaro’s as it bobbed in and out of Paulo’s mouth. It was all actually terribly sloppy and messy, none of them actually knowing what the cues were or if there were even cues given by each of them in the first place. Their dicks slapped futilely against each other each time they failed to slide them properly into Paulo’s mouth. _And_ it all looked so fucking _erotic_ that Alvaro couldn’t open his eyes for too long, he couldn’t look at himself and Isco fucking Paulo’s face for too long. He briefly wondered where exactly the pleasure in this was – but then quickly realised it _didn't matter_ because Alvaro was feeling things he’d never felt before in parts of his body he’d never felt things in before and _he didn't want it to stop._

When Alvaro opened his eyes again he noticed Isco just _watching_ him, one hand grasping Alvaro’s shoulder in a death grip, eyes wide like he suddenly couldn’t believe this was happening.

And Alvaro. Alvaro had a sudden urge to just _kiss Isco_ , to tell Isco that he felt the same way, too. And he realised that there was literally nothing stopping him right then so he did it, he just leaned forward and pressed his lips softly on Isco’s, the both of them gasping in unison when Paulo’s tongue escaped his mouth to give both their slits a flick. Alvaro reached behind Isco, caressing his back all the way down to his ass, which he gave a squeeze before he took over Paulo’s finger at Isco’s hole. Alvaro’s finger was wet – from all the fucking _sweat_ , he guessed – so he just slid it into Isco’s hole, massaging it wider open. Isco gritted his teeth over Alvaro’s bottom lip, drawing a drop of blood which he quickly licked off.

Isco grasped the nape of Alvaro’s neck with his clammy hand. He leaned his forehead on Alvaro’s and gave a little sigh which turned into another gasp with Paulo did something with his mouth. His fucking _magical_ mouth. Alvaro kissed Isco again, desperate to find something, _anything_ , to match all the arousal that was leaking out of his cock. He was so _close_ to finding it, yet. Yet so far. This was his _best friend._ These were two of Alvaro’s _best friends in the entire world_ and now Alvaro was doing all kinds of things to the both of them _at the same time_.

Isco was suddenly violently yanked away by the hair from Alvaro – by Franco, who had appeared behind him and was being needy. His ginormous hand was curled around his own dick like he’d just been watching the three of them grind it out and jerking himself off to the scene. Which, frankly, was actually really hot. Franco gave Paulo a little kiss on the lips like he was thanking Paulo for treating his boyfriend so well, then he dragged Isco off and away, causing Isco to bonk Paulo on the face with his knee in all the chaos.

Paulo just lay there, spread-eagled, eyes closed and panting. Alvaro wasn't sure if he was hurt or just tired. He shimmied down and straddled Paulo’s hips, giving Paulo’s chin a few kisses. Streams of precome and sweat ran down it. Alvaro used his fingers to wipe them off as Paulo coughed. He looked so. So fucking _spent_.

“You okay?” Alvaro whispered.

“Yeah,” Paulo whispered back, smiling and opening his eyes halfway. He flung his arms over his head and sighed, hips fidgeting under Alvaro. “Hi, Alvi.”

“Hi,” Alvaro smiled. He kissed Paulo softly on the lips. They were tender and they looked like they hurt. “How you doin’? Where’d he hit you?”

Paulo gestured lazily at the general area of his right eye. It fluttered shut when Alvaro pressed his lips to it, then opened again when Paulo curled his fingers around Alvaro’s dick and Paulo laughed at Alvaro’s gasp of surprise. His gaze turned dark when Alvaro began to move his hips, fucking into the space between Paulo’s hand and his abdomen while letting Paulo rub himself off in Alvaro’s buttcrack. His eyes trapped Alvaro’s own; they were beautiful and mesmerising and Alvaro had looked into them so many different times, with so many different moods, but they never failed to make Alvaro feel like it was a place he wanted to come home to every day for the rest of his life.

But that amazing view was robbed from Alvaro as Paulo’s hips suddenly jerked upwards and Paulo’s eyes squeezed themselves shut. His fingers wrapped around Alvaro’s length tightly like he was milking Alvaro, and a low moan escaped from his mouth.

Alvaro turned to look behind him and saw Franco pulling his spit-covered fingers out of Paulo’s hole. He aligned his condom-wearing dick at Paulo’s hole and slowly edged himself in, causing Paulo to squirm again.

Alvaro turned his attention back to Paulo, who had calmed down a little and was lying there with his brow furrowed deeper than Alvaro had ever seen. Alvaro gave it a kiss. “Hey,” he whispered.

“Alvi,” Paulo breathed as Franco began to thrust. He gasped again, and then moaned, and this time it sounded much more like arousal. “Oh, fuck, Alvi.”

“It’s Franco,” Alvaro felt like he needed to say. “Yeah? Not me.”

“I know,” Paulo said, body beginning to rock with Franco’s rhythm. He found Alvaro’s hand and held it tightly. “Alvi. I – I love you. You know? I love you. So much.”

“I love you, too,” Alvaro smiled. He swept Paulo’s hair off his forehead and gave it a kiss. “Yeah? You know that?”

Paulo nodded. And Alvaro just. Alvaro felt like he was growing closer and closer to Paulo as this whole thing unraveled. Which didn't make any _sense_ to Alvaro at all, but. But he looked at Paulo and he fell more and more in love and he felt so grateful that he had Paulo by his side to experience all of these things. He had Paulo by his side as he tried to navigate his life.

His little bubble was rudely popped by Isco, who appeared next to him and dumped two unopened condoms at him. They bounced off Alvaro and landed on Paulo’s chest.

“Extra over there,” he informed them, pointing to the bedside table. “Put it on.”

Alvaro tore one open with shaking hands. He tried putting it on but he couldn't do it because his entire body was suddenly trembling and Alvaro was suddenly so _afraid_ because he realised this was it. All the fucking was going to begin and Alvaro’s life was never going to be the same again.

Franco reached around Alvaro's waist and gently took the condom from him. He helped Alvaro put it on with his kind hands and he gave Alvaro’s shoulder a kiss and said, “Go fuck around with Isco a little, yeah?”

Alvaro didn't really know why he nodded, but he did. He climbed off Paulo and watched Franco lean over Paulo and just completely envelop Paulo in his embrace. His hands pinned Paulo’s arms down above his head. His hips moved with an intensity Alvaro could practically feel in his own bones. His eyes bore deep down into Paulo’s and Alvaro watched the both of them pound it out for a while, mesmerized, because he suddenly realised that watching someone else fuck Paulo, albeit emotionlessly, was almost equivalent to the highest quality of porn.

Franco was – he was so elegant in all his movements and he was so kind, even though it was unnoticeable at first. He moved slowly and with purpose and he trapped Paulo’s gaze in his and – and _okay,_ suddenly Alvaro felt jealous. After hearing about this for such a long time he was finally seeing it in action. And they looked so good together, Paulo and Franco. They did. Alvaro started crawling back over and –

– and didn't manage to do anything because Isco wrapped his arm around Alvaro’s waist and pulled him close. He nuzzled Alvaro’s neck with his nose. “It doesn't mean anything to him.”

“How do you know that?”

“I just do,” Isco said. “Look. The whole point of a foursome is that we can do whatever we want to whoever we like and enjoy ourselves.”

But Alvaro didn't think he _wanted_ to do anything else with anyone who wasn't Paulo. He'd never thought about it, at least.

“What do you say, huh?” Isco whispered, hands moving south as his lips breathed into Alvaro’s ear. “You and me, Alvarito?”

 _Okay_ , so the only person in this room Alvaro wanted to fuck was Paulo. And maybe. Maybe Franco a little bit, because as much as Alvaro love-hated him, Franco was hot.

But _Isco?_ Isco was. He was a tiny horny man-child and Alvaro’s best friend and after that kiss they'd shared that one time eons ago Alvaro thought he would never want to touch Isco ever again, but he also knew that Isco had probably thought about this every time he saw Alvaro because that was just who he was. He probably thought about running his stupid tiny hands over Alvaro’s body, about letting his beard cut lines across Alvaro’s face, patterns over the fair skin of Alvaro’s body. Probably thought of Alvaro’s hands all over him, too big to ever look proportionate anywhere. He probably thought of Alvaro’s ‘blowjob lips,’ as Paulo loved to call them, around his cock, probably wondered what Alvaro’s blowjobs were like since they had been so exclusive to Paulo. Probably thought of what it would be like to have Alvaro’s body, the body Isco had watched grown up in more ways than one, on top of his. Probably wanted Alvaro to trace his arm tattoo with his long fingers –

Okay, so maybe Alvaro did want to fuck Isco.

Alvaro turned around and pushed Isco by the shoulders, meeting his lips in mid-air as he bounced off the mattress. They were upturned, which was no surprise because Alvaro expected nothing less from this fucking minx. He rubbed his dick over Isco’s hole a few times, taking Isco’s gasp as an opportunity to french him. Isco’s beard felt uncharacteristically soft. Alvaro couldn’t _stop_ running his fingers through it. And through Isco’s hair. Which was also soft. _God,_ what had Franco _done_ to Isco? Isco had become so _soft_. Alvaro didn’t remember Isco ever being so nice to touch.

The face Isco made when Alvaro slid his dick inside him was the silliest face Alvaro had seen in his entire life. It was all scrunched up in a ball, only relaxing slightly when Alvaro began to thrust to a new rhythm. His eyes opened and firmly held Alvaro’s, and Alvaro couldn’t even _look away_ if he tried; his gaze was somehow locked into Isco’s, like his stupid brown eyes had some sort of power in them.

And as Alvaro stared into them, into the unfamiliar hazel instead of the emerald Alvaro knew so well, it suddenly hit him – _God, I’m fucking Isco Alarcon._

And it felt so good. It felt _so good_ and Alvaro was so _confused,_ he was the most confused he had ever been in his life. How was it that he could enjoy having sex with Isco, want to make sure Isco wasn’t hurting or in discomfort, want to give Isco all the pleasure he could afford, and just generally want to do this in the most non-abusive manner – and yet _not_ be attracted to Isco the same way he was attracted to Paulo? Alvaro had never felt this way; he had never had the chance to feel this way.

Isco rolled over, trapping Alvaro under him. He sat upright, riding Alvaro, trying to find a new suitable position. His eyes were still looking hazily at Alvaro, eyelashes fanning his cheeks from how nearly closed they were. His thighs worked hard, bulging and stretching, and Alvaro couldn’t resist but to put his palms on them and give them a squeeze.

“Can you stop thinking for a few minutes?” Isco asked, grubby hands taking Alvaro’s and holding them like it was a perfectly normal thing to do. “Relax.”

“Kiss me and maybe I will,” Alvaro said before he could even process his thoughts.

Isco laughed. He sounded a little proud of Alvaro. His lips were upturned again as he bent over to kiss Alvaro, slowly but eagerly, his lips soft and accommodating. He gave a shudder when Alvaro started to thrust upwards, his thighs tightening around Alvaro’s waist as if he needed to cling on to something. Alvaro felt the pleasure bleed up from his abdomen, he felt his neck turn red like it did whenever Alvaro was turned on. He found himself not caring that it was turning red. Not caring that Isco was the one that had made him blush, instead of Paulo. The only thing Alvaro cared about was how _good_ he felt inside of Isco, almost bursting at the seams. It was all the little whimpers that were escaping from Isco’s mouth. It was seeing Isco being vulnerable, seeing Isco let himself be vulnerable to someone else other than Franco; it was Isco _and Alvaro_ both being vulnerable together.

Alvaro took Isco’s advice and relaxed. He let himself go, let himself fuck Isco because he suddenly realised that all of this meant nothing. Sure, Alvaro loved all the sex he was getting. He loved all the fucking and all the blowjobs and all the making out. But all of this was just purely physical pleasure. The orgasm Alvaro got at the end was all that mattered to Alvaro.

Alvaro almost had a legitimate orgasm upon that sudden realisation.

Franco’s smiling face suddenly appeared over Isco’s shoulder, glancing at Alvaro before burying itself in Isco’s neck. Isco giggled, then squirmed because Franco’s five o’clock shadow tickled – and also because Franco’s finger was at Isco’s hole, trying to find a space for itself next to Alvaro’s dick. Alvaro could _feel it_ , and _God help him_ , Alvaro had never felt anything like it. It toyed with Isco’s rim for a while as Isco’s breaths turned into gasps, and then rode the wave of Alvaro’s next thrust and slid all the way inside Isco’s hole.

“Holy fuck,” Isco almost yelled, and Alvaro found himself desperately kissing Isco to calm him down. “Oh, fuck. Fuck. What – oh. Fuck.”

“Hurts?” Alvaro heard Franco say, his voice a murmur because his face was now at Isco’s ass, licking his rim.

“No,” Isco said into Alvaro’s chin. “Not real – fuck! Are there two now?”

 _Two?_ Like – two _fingers?_

“Mmhmm,” Franco said.

“What the fuck,” Alvaro said.

Isco shuddered again, except this time the shudder didn’t _stop_. He just kept shaking and Franco asked him if it hurt and he said no, and Alvaro could _feel Franco’s fingers_ and Jesus _Christ_ it was simultaneously the hottest and most disgusting thing Alvaro had ever experienced.

Alvaro could vaguely see Franco as he got on his knees behind Isco. He reached for a new condom from the table, taking off the one he’d fucked Paulo with and dumping it on the ground before putting the new one on. Then he made Isco spit on his hand so he could coat his dick. Isco gasped again when Franco nudged his dick at Isco’s hole.

“Can I?” he asked, and _God_ , he was so _kind_ and Alvaro suddenly just really wanted to be fucked by him.

Isco nodded. He appeared to immediately regret it because he almost had a fucking seizure when Franco went in, groaning and gritting his teeth and just generally making really inhuman-sounding noises. Alvaro had never heard Isco’s voice go like that before. Not even when he’d fallen over and was hurt. Not even when he’d gotten that huge-ass cut on his head during that one match against PSG and had to get staples on the pitch because he couldn’t stop bleeding. This sounded like it _really hurt_.

“Hurts?” Franco asked again.

Isco shook his head again. Alvaro didn’t believe him. “I don’t believe you,” he said.

“I just – you guys need to move,” Isco said, muffled against Alvaro’s shoulder. “Okay? Just. I don’t know. Keep moving.”

Franco pulled out and Alvaro could feel the rubber of their condoms squeak against each other as much as he could hear it. He slid in again and Isco made the same sounds.

“We can stop if you want,” Franco whispered, kissing the middle of Isco’s back.

Isco shook his head defiantly. “I just need to get used to it. You have to. Franco. You have to keep moving.”

“‘Kay,” Franco said. He reached upwards and kissed Isco’s neck as Isco whimpered. His hips started to move again as he grabbed Isco’s waist and pulled Isco back upright.

Alvaro was taken aback when he saw Isco’s face. It just. It was so twisted and in so much pain, and it was so _red_ that Isco could’ve easily blended in with the Spain jerseys. His back was arched like if he moved it would hurt even more. Franco hugged him tight and kissed him on the cheek and whispered softly into his ear. He murmured a little ‘c’mon, kiss,’ and when Isco turned his head to oblige, used it as a distraction so he could grab Isco and guide him up and down, riding on Franco and Alvaro’s dicks.

And _okay_ , that actually. That actually felt so fucking good. It was so tight down there and Alvaro felt _every slightest movement_ whether it was from Franco or Isco. He found himself on his elbows just watching Franco and Isco, hugging tightly and moving in unison, Franco’s arm curled around Isco and Isco’s knuckles white from how tightly he was grabbing it; shoulders still shuddering and lips still gasping from how _stretched_ he was; Franco kissing him everywhere he could reach, Isco’s well-being his topmost priority even though Alvaro was sure he was feeling the same pleasure Alvaro was. It was a work of art. It was Isco and Franco’s work of erotic art and – and Alvaro was experiencing it with them.

“You two,” Isco whispered when he managed to say something again. “You two are so fucking big, fucking assholes. Fuck you.”

Franco laughed. “You love that we’re big, don’t you?” he whispered, lips lining Isco’s jaw again. “Hmm? You love riding our fucking big dicks.”

“Fuck you,” Isco spat. “I do.”

Franco grinned. He thrusted upwards as Isco descended and it seemed to hit Isco right in the spine because he recoiled and almost curled up on himself. Franco let go of Isco’s waist and let Isco lean back on him to finally guide his own movements, thighs bulging again as he rode Franco and Alvaro’s cocks, still hissing and cursing. He uncurled them from below himself and stomped all over Alvaro as he positioned his feet on either side of Alvaro’s body so he looked like he was sitting on a chair. Well, roughly. The way they were all contorted right then was something completely out of Alvaro’s imagination or capability to describe.

Alvaro remembered Paulo’s presence in the room the millisecond before Paulo gave a loud whine from where he was lying. “God, you guys are fucking leaving me out. Fuck you all. I want some.”

“Come over here,” Isco said, and that was so _greedy_ of him because he literally had two dicks up his ass and now he wanted more.

But not that Alvaro minded, because his heart melted the moment Paulo came into view. As much fun as this all was, it wasn’t as much fun as it would be with Paulo around.

Paulo seemed to feel the same. He hovered over Alvaro, smiling. “Hello,” he said.

“Hi,” Alvaro cooed, but it turned into a gasp when a ripple of sensation rocked his body. It caused a domino effect, evident by Franco and Isco both following up with coordinated moans.

Paulo giggled. He gave Alvaro loud smooches on his lips, his gentle fingers soothing in Alvaro’s hair.

Then he kissed a trail down Alvaro’s abdomen before taking Isco’s dick in his mouth.

“Oh, fuck,” Isco moaned deafeningly, his head thrown back. “Fuck. Am I dreaming? Or is this my birthday? It’s my birthday in heaven. I died and went to heaven and now it’s my birthday.”

“Shhh,” Franco whispered. He was smiling at Isco and he looked so happy and. And in love.

Paulo’s head stayed in place, letting Isco fuck into Paulo’s mouth as he rode the dicks. Isco grasped a handful of Paulo’s hair, not tugging – thank fuck, because Alvaro would literally punch Isco in the face if he dared to hurt Paulo – but just holding gently. He looked at a loss of where to look, his gaze flitting from the back of Paulo’s head to Alvaro’s face to Franco’s, sitting on his shoulder. But that was the only thing he was at a loss about, because Isco was in _complete control_ of all of them and just simply one rock of his hips could send all three of them into oblivion. And he knew that, the fucker. He knew that and he took every opportunity he could to do so. Even if it meant that he was sent into a spiral of giddy pleasure himself. He thrusted and he rocked and he whimpered and _God_ , Alvaro was so fucking hot for this and it just kept getting better.

Alvaro’s hands felt kind of free so he reached for Paulo’s dick to jerk him off. Paulo hadn’t put on a condom yet but he gasped in shock, almost choking on Isco. Alvaro would’ve laughed at all of their clumsiness thus far if he hadn’t been so fucking turned on. He watched Paulo settle again over Isco’s dick, his own hips now also thrusting to the rhythm. It was actually. Actually pretty amazing how the four of them could move together like that, like four parts of the same machine. They did have their moments. When they weren't being clumsy as fuck.

Only when Paulo sat up to catch a breath and wipe the precome off his lips did Isco actually realise how far he was. He was still visibly leaking as Paulo left him, and his fingers were now tightly grasping Franco’s, so hard Alvaro was quite surprised they weren’t already bent and broken.

“Fuck, I need to –” Isco gasped. “Shit. I’m gonna come. I don’t wanna.”

Everyone froze, which was retrospectively quite a stupid thing to do because it didn’t change the fact that Alvaro and Franco were both _still inside Isco._

“Get off yourself,” Franco suggested. “Yeah? Slowly. Don’t hurt yourself.”

Isco gave a grunt of approval. He slowly got on his knees again and crouched over Alvaro, his nose booping Alvaro’s. He was too distracted to notice, though, his eyes so wide open they looked like they were going to fall out and roll off the bed. He propped his elbows on Alvaro’s shoulders and slowly lifted his bum off Franco and Alvaro’s laps, groaning loudly every inch of the way. He got their dicks out his butt hole with a very audible and painful-sounding pop, after which Franco managed to give Isco’s bum a soft kiss before Isco collapsed on the bed on his back.

“Holy fuck,” he said. “I need, like, two minutes, please.”

Alvaro left Franco to entertain him. Or kiss him or blow him or whatever. He crawled over to Paulo, who was lying down again looking thoroughly exhausted.

“You come yet?” Alvaro whispered.

Paulo shook his head. “Waiting for my Alvi.”

Alvaro smiled. He let Paulo roll his condom off and put on the one that Isco had thrown at him earlier. He pushed Paulo’s thighs apart and spat on his hand as he prepared to get inside Paulo. Paulo was smiling lazily up at him and he looked so _beautiful_ and Alvaro missed him, which was both a little silly and a little romantic, but the point was that being near Paulo again, doing this with Paulo again – it felt familiar and Alvaro was glad that after an entire evening of trying new things he was finally back with his Paulo again.

Paulo sighed in relief as Alvaro slid into him. He hooked his arms around Alvaro’s neck and let Alvaro work his mouth open, and Alvaro was soon shaking not only with how close he was to orgasm but also how much love he held for Paulo, for this set of hands and this set of lips and this set of eyes specifically. And Alvaro wanted to tell him that he thought he understood, finally, what this all actually meant. What romantic attraction really meant to Alvaro. Because after all these years of fighting Alvaro finally had a sliver of understanding and he knew Paulo would be so proud of him. And he also knew Paulo would laugh at Alvaro for thinking about all these things while having sex but. But Paulo would understand. And that was everything that mattered to Alvaro.

Alvaro’s vision went white as two slimy fingers suddenly slid up his butt hole. He turned around and saw Franco there on his knees again and. “Christ, Vazquez, how many surprise butt fucks are you going to give today?”

“Three, I maxed it out,” Franco said, deadpan. He stuck his fingers deeper, causing Alvaro to thrust harder into Paulo and the both of them to moan.

It took a while for Alvaro to open up again but once he was comfortable enough, Franco was totally onto him. Or into him, rather, with another new condom. Alvaro leaned over Paulo with a gasp as Franco slid in to give Alvaro a taste of his girth, and Paulo was fucking _grinning_ at him like he was going to burst into his lame ‘Franny and Alvi sitting in a tree’ song any moment. Alvaro slapped him gently on the cheek but the smile only grew.

Franco’s first thrust sent Alvaro spiraling off in ecstasy. His second sent Alvaro deep into Paulo again. His third made Alvaro realise he could just die from all the sensations arising from his crotch, with both his dick and his ass receiving more than adequate attention. His fourth hit Alvaro with the fact, again, that _God, Franco Vazquez is fucking me._

That thought must have shown on his face because Paulo’s grin turned into just a smile. Like he was still going to sing the song, but at a lower volume.

The both of them let Franco be in control of the rhythm. He rocked his hips steadily, adjusting his position in Alvaro as Alvaro rocked against Paulo. Paulo had his eyes closed again and his mouth open, which was always a good sign to Alvaro. It honestly felt like Franco was fucking Paulo _through Alvaro_ , which Alvaro couldn’t really decide was really hot or just plain rude.

Alvaro leaned forward to hold Paulo’s wrists down beside his head. Paulo’s lips closed around Alvaro’s when they landed, tired but hardworking, working Alvaro into a huge melty mess. Alvaro moved his lips to Paulo’s chin, kissing a path down one side of his jaw and up the other. He felt in total control of Paulo but also under complete control of Franco, with his hips moving with Franco’s tempo. Franco leaned over Alvaro, the sweat on his abdomen warm and moist against Alvaro’s back, and entertained Paulo’s mouth while Alvaro kissed tracks all over everywhere else. The sound their lips made right next to Alvaro’s ear was – it was so fucking disgusting yet so _hot_ , and Alvaro just felt like he had to have some part of it so he poked his face into theirs and kissed whoever’s lips he got to first, which happened to be Franco’s. They parted in a gasp, just as Paulo's and Alvaro’s did, as Franco gave a hard thrust. Franco grabbed a handful of Alvaro’s hair and tugged it around to continue working Alvaro’s mouth earnestly. Alvaro let him.

Honestly, Alvaro was pretty much getting the hang of it. He had pretty much let himself go completely. Sex was fun; Alvaro had established that in his teenage years. And now, in the heat of the moment, Alvaro realised that it was all it could be if that was all Alvaro wanted from it. Sex could very well just be for enjoyment. And Alvaro _was_ enjoying it. He let himself be free, let his hands wander where they wanted to and let his lips bite and be bitten. He had to admit it felt so _fucking good_ not only being filled to the brim by Franco, but at the same time being _inside Paulo_ ; Alvaro just felt so full and like he was going to explode but in the best way ever.

Isco soon decided he’d like to be part of the fun again and crawled over to where they were. He gripped Alvaro’s shoulders and pushed Alvaro and Franco off Paulo – _man,_ the tiny dude was so strong – before tearing open a new condom packet.

“Fuck me,” he mouthed to Paulo.

Paulo nodded. Isco climbed on his chest, backwards so he he was facing Alvaro, and rolled the condom on for Paulo. He gave a sudden wince as if Paulo had just ambushed his hole and he was feeling it, and then keened upwards with a gasp, hands letting go of Paulo’s dick and landing on Alvaro’s shoulders again. His pupils were dilated when he looked into Alvaro’s eyes. They were frantic. Alvaro kissed him on the lips and took one of his hands. He spat in it and guided it to Paulo’s dick.

He surprised himself. Alvaro had to say that he surprised himself. But this – if Isco got himself fucked by Paulo, then. It might literally be the most amazing thing Alvaro had ever or would ever witness.

Once Isco was comfortable enough he slid himself down Paulo’s chest and settled on his knees near Paulo’s hips. It was a little squeeze with his knees clanking against Alvaro’s, but the look on his face as he lowered himself over Paulo's dick was totally worth it. A low groan slipped out Isco’s lips, like his butt hole still hurt from how wide it had been stretched earlier, but he continued slowly until he was completely sitting on Paulo. The both of them made coordinated grunts as Isco began to ride and _God,_ it was so fucking hot and Isco appeared to think so too because he collapsed backwards, lying on Paulo’s chest. Paulo nibbled sloppily at Isco’s earlobe, his hot breaths rippling the hairs of Isco’s beard when Alvaro hit one of his good spots.

Alvaro took hold of Isco’s thighs and urged Isco’s legs to uncurl from under him. They were fortunately quite obedient. They plastered themselves to the front of Paulo’s widespread thighs. Alvaro hooked his arms under them and leaned forward, pushing himself further into Paulo and causing everyone to groan as they were forced to curl up even more. He hovered over Isco and Paulo before deciding that he wanted to kiss them – either of them – again.

He started with Isco, messily, his lips getting more of Isco’s teeth than anything else because Isco was so hard for breath. He traced a path down Isco’s jaw and neck until he finally found Paulo’s. They were softer than Isco's and they somehow tasted pink. Or maybe Alvaro was just hypersensitive.

Franco joined in the fun, body leaning over the back of Alvaro to get a taste of it. His hips pushed further forward, jostling everyone, especially Alvaro who was _sandwiched_ and _trapped_ and he felt so helpless and claustrophobic but also so _close._

“Holy fuck, you guys,” he breathed, shutting his eyes. He had one hand in Isco’s hair and the other in Paulo’s. He tightened his grip and caused a harsh breath from each of them.

“I fucking _know,_ ” Paulo whined. Isco moved his hips in a vague riding movement and Paulo whined again. “Fuck, keep doing that.”

So Isco kept doing that in whatever limited space he had, clamped in between everyone else. He moved his hips in circles, and then up and down, alternating until Paulo was practically a drooling mess from the combination of that with Franco and Alvaro fucking up his ass. Alvaro reached for Isco’s dick and started to jerk him off, which caused Isco’s hips to stutter and for it to have an effect on Paulo, too. Alvaro loved how connected they all were right then. He loved that he could feel every single movement any one of them made.

“Can I go faster?” Franco whispered in Alvaro's ear. Alvaro nodded and Franco went at it immediately, hips going at twice the rhythm. And he – _oh_ , he was hitting Alvaro’s prostrate and. _Oh, fuck,_ it was so fucking good.

“Fuck,” Alvaro whispered, draping himself over Isco and Paulo again. He was shaking, literally just shivering over Isco. He felt like maybe he was sobbing a little, too, but he wasn't sure.

He pumped Isco's cock to the rhythm of Franco’s thrusts. He searched for Paulo's lips with his and he found some solace in them, even as they spoke in a whisper, “Alvi.”

“Paulo,” he sobbed, not out of sadness but because Alvaro’s dick was beginning to throb and Alvaro was still shaking and he was overwhelmed by all the sensations he could suddenly feel in every part of his body.

Paulo placed his hand atop Alvaro’s, wanting to take over Isco’s dick. Alvaro let him. He focused all his attention on his lower body, on every thrust of Franco’s hips and on every inch deeper it sent Alvaro into Paulo. On the pleasantly sore spot in between those extremes – his prostate being nudged, with more pressure each time.

He felt himself come before he could say anything about it or give anyone any warning. His hips started to shudder and he collapsed over everyone with little noises falling out of his mouth.

Franco was the first to notice. He pulled out of Alvaro and grabbed Alvaro’s waist, pulling _him_ out of Paulo. Then he ripped off Alvaro’s condom and crouched at Alvaro's dick and flicked at it with his tongue, collecting Alvaro’s come on his lips and cheeks, and _God,_ Alvaro had never seen Franco this submissive and it just caused him to start shaking even more. Especially because Franco was looking at him _dead in the eye._

Isco and Paulo got out of their positions and crouched next to Franco, which honestly was such an overkill so Alvaro grabbed Paulo by the hair and pulled him up. He pressed his lips to Paulo’s and felt another shudder rise through him. “Fuck, Pau. Fuck – holy shit.”

“Shhh,” Paulo whispered. His hand was running soothingly through Alvaro’s hair. “I've got you. I've got you.”

Alvaro was still shaking when Isco and Franco were done with him and he had collapsed on the bed. Paulo tried kissing all the shivers out of him, but when that didn't work, Franco and Isco decided to join in.

What that all meant was that Alvaro was peppered with kisses all over his face, the three of them taking turns to french him – and _fuck_ , Alvaro had literally just had the best orgasm of his life and there he was thinking maybe he was about to get hard again.

Fortunately for Alvaro, Franco and Isco fucked off to deal with themselves after a while because Isco started complaining that if there was going to be any more kissing, then he was just going to come right there. Alvaro vaguely noticed Franco grabbing him and throwing him down on the pillows.

Alvaro turned his attention back to Paulo, who was lying next to him on his side with a silly smile on his face. It grew when Alvaro made eye contact. He ran his thumb down Alvaro’s cheek, collecting some of the leftover come that someone must’ve contributed during all the kissing and pushing it into Alvaro’s mouth.

“Make me come,” Paulo whispered.

Alvaro obliged. He turned Paulo on his back and climbed on him, pressing his lips briefly to Paulo’s again before starting his journey down Paulo’s body. He covered every inch he could get his lips or fingers on; every nook and cranny of Paulo’s body that Alvaro already knew so well. Paulo’s abdomen was glistening with sweat as Alvaro kissed his way down it to Paulo’s hips. He used his teeth to unroll the condom from Paulo’s dick, tossing it aside before he spat on his hand and spread it on Paulo’s length.

Paulo’s hips lifted off the bed when Alvaro lowered his lips over Paulo’s cock. Alvaro began to bob his head up and down but Paulo was impatient, fucking upwards into Alvaro’s face, his hips struggling. Alvaro tried holding Paulo’s hips down but Paulo found his hand instead, gripping it so tightly he might as well have snapped it off. He threw his head back when Alvaro took a peek at him. He was beginning to quiver from how close he was.

Alvaro retreated until only Paulo’s tip was in his mouth. He put pressure on Paulo’s slit with his tongue, and then nudged it under Paulo’s head to tease him the way he liked. And Paulo. Paulo was making so many different noises and they only got louder the more Alvaro played.

Paulo came when Alvaro had moved to the base of his dick. He spurted all over the right side of Alvaro's face as he muttered obscenities and tried his best to control his hips. Then he grabbed a fistful of  Alvaro’s hair and pulled him to face level so he could kiss all the come off Alvaro’s face.

Alvaro collapsed on top of him, just. Just suddenly exhausted. Now that he had gotten his high, now that they were done with this – everything seemed way too normal. Way too dim and monotone.

“You okay?” Paulo asked softly, lips carving the words into Alvaro’s neck.

Alvaro nodded. He flipped over on his back next to Paulo and saw Paulo smiling at him again. “Had a great time,” he whispered.

Paulo’s smile grew again. He tucked his head into Alvaro’s shoulder. They were at the foot of the bed, lying upside down along it. Alvaro lifted his head a little to take a look at Franco and Isco – they were on the other half of the bed, right side up, still on the pillows. Their legs were tangled, with Franco lying on top of Isco. He was holding Isco’s face and they were kissing, occasionally pausing to tell each other ‘I love you.’ They had big, sleepy smiles on their faces. Obviously, they had finished too, and were lost in their own world.

When Alvaro turned to Paulo again, Paulo was gazing up at him, watching him watch Isco and Franco. “Wanna talk about it?” he asked.

Alvaro thought about it but he was suddenly really sleepy. “Maybe another day,” he said.

“Okay,” Paulo said. “But you'll tell me anything, yeah? Anything that's troubling you?”

Alvaro nodded. He kissed Paulo and Paulo was contented again. “I love you,” Alvaro said. Just. Just grateful he could say it.

“I love you, too,” Paulo whispered. He rolled over and tucked himself fully against Alvaro. Then they both started to doze, and the bed was so _comfortable_ and Alvaro thought maybe it was more comfortable than their own and he made a mental reminder to complain about it when he had the energy.

Alvaro’s slumber was very rudely interrupted by Isco, who had gotten up to give Paulo and Alvaro a hard shove. It wasn't hard enough to disturb Paulo, but the momentum sent Alvaro tumbling off the edge of the bed.

“Go back to your own bed,” Isco said.

Alvaro tutted at him. He got to his feet, rubbing his butt, which was sore and cold at the same time. Then he helped Paulo up and the both of them retreated to their own room, softly shutting the conjoining door.

Paulo and Alvaro had a quiet shower together, neither of them saying a word, instead speaking with their bodies. With their hands moving to lather soap all over each other. Their fingers gently washing the soap bubbles out of every contour. Their mouths turning up in smiles when they made eye contact. Lips lingering on each other’s on the way out of the bathroom. Bodies automatically fitting together, Alvaro’s front to Paulo’s back, once they got into bed.

It seemed like such a calm, non-dramatic, and at the same time anticlimactic end to whatever they’d done just minutes earlier. But Alvaro felt – he felt at peace. He didn’t feel angry. He didn’t feel like he wanted more. He didn’t feel like he wanted to talk; or at least, not right then. He just wanted to hug his Paulo and go to sleep. He felt like – like this experience just brought him so much closer to Paulo.

Sure, Alvaro had had sex with other people. Even while being in love with Paulo the entire time. But this was – this was having sex with other people _while being with Paulo_. While _Paulo himself_ had sex with other people. It was. It was an intimate, sensitive experience for everyone involved. And it helped Alvaro learn that sure, he did enjoy sex with other people and sure, Paulo might understand it because Paulo just understood sex differently from Alvaro. But it didn’t change the fact that the only person Alvaro ever wanted to do it with, long-term, was Paulo. Alvaro felt so calm, it was almost unnatural. It made him a little scared that he was subconsciously bottling it up inside.

He had drifted off into a shallow slumber when the connecting door rolled open. Seconds later, Isco jumped into bed and shoved Alvaro around until he and Paulo moved to the edge of the bed so Isco and Franco could get in.

“You made our bed gross as fuck,” was Isco’s explanation. Franco went to the shopping bag on the table and retrieved his pink dick soft toy before crawling in behind Iscom, jostling everyone because he was so _tall_. Alvaro peeked and saw him hugging it close while Isco snuggled up to Alvaro’s back.

Alvaro sighed. At least Franco liked it. He hugged Paulo closer to him. “Good night,” he said.

“Night,” everyone echoed.

“No goodnight kiss?” Paulo asked, puckering his lips at the air.

Alvaro didn’t expect anyone to respond, but Franco got up and leaned over everyone to give Paulo a loud kiss on the cheek. Then he gave one to Alvaro, and finally Isco. He lay back down with a thump and a sigh.

“G’night, kiddos,” he murmured.

Everything was peacefully quiet after that. Alvaro knew no one was fully asleep yet, just dozing, but no one said a word – and yet, it wasn't a weird silence. It was just. Just comfortable. Just the four of them lying there comfortably in one bed. They were firmly in the balance and no one was going to suddenly say something that would jolt the others’ worlds. Alvaro couldn’t explain how grateful he was for that. How grateful he was that he didn’t need to put his feelings into words right then. That his friends knew he might need all the time in the world but they were going to give it to him nonetheless, and not say something spiteful or mean. Not even Franco.

Alvaro fell asleep surrounded by his favourite people in the universe and he thought that maybe he didn’t understand everything he wanted to understand, but he was sure of one thing – this was exactly where he wanted to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PS: [The pink dick soft toys exist and they're adorable!](https://www.amazon.com/Creative-Dingding-Pillows-Girlfriend-dingding/dp/B074PHJWY9)


	9. Nor Shall Death Brag Thou Wand'rest In Its Shade

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OMG!!!!!!!!! I'm so sorry for the very late update, I'm drowning so badly in life. I hope you guys enjoyed the previous chapter though ;) Do let me know what you guys think about this story - I know it's a little boring because there is only a mild plot arc, but I would love to know what you think! And I promise that part 4 will be more ~exciting~ :)
> 
> Again I'm so sorry! Here's another super long chapter to make up for it. I hope you'll like it!

As much as Paulo hated to think so, it was awkward as hell the next morning.

The fact that both he and Alvaro woke up sore as fuck was one thing. Isco and Franco disappearing back into their own room was another. 

The connecting door was wide open, though, so Paulo took it as a good sign. He tiptoed over to it as Alvaro lazed in bed.

Isco and Franco were doing some last-minute packing. Or, rather, Isco was. Franco’s bag was nicely packed and zipped and lying on its side on the floor. Isco’s bag was wide open on the bed – which was something  _ only  _ desperate Franco Vazquez would  _ ever _ do – and there was just a big pile of things in the middle of it. Franco was sitting next to it looking flustered and doing a good job at being a clothes-folding machine.

“You said you packed while I was showering yesterday!” Franco said.

“I did!” Isco retorted.

“This doesn’t count as packing,” Franco evidently tried not to sound flustered, but he failed.

“It does!” Isco said. “Look. if you just flip the other side over, it closes. Let me show –”

“Stop!” Franco said, pushing him aside. “I’m not going you let you force-shut your luggage!”

Isco sat down sadly by Franco’s side, watching Franco do all the work because he evidently couldn’t do it himself to Franco’s liking. Franco worked through almost half of Isco’s things before they realised Paulo standing there watching them.

There was this really brief, tense silence as they both turned to Paulo and Paulo couldn’t walk away because he was suddenly frozen. 

And then Isco gave this really dramatic, fake-shocked face, and he grabbed the edge of the sheet under him and used it to cover his chest, like he’d been caught naked. His mouth fell open and he blinked a few times. “Peeping Tom!” he exclaimed.

Franco burst into laughter, which made Paulo follow suit. It made Isco laugh, too, in evident relief.

“What’s so funny?” Alvaro asked sleepily as he trudged to where Paulo was standing.

“You had to be here,” Paulo told him.

Alvaro pouted. It was adorable. “I thought we were supposed to be already packed,” he said.

Franco gave a very dramatic ‘you see?’ gesture at Isco.

Alvaro got bored and started dragging his feet to the bathroom. Paulo followed suit. He stood next to Alvaro as he squeezed some toothpaste on his toothbrush and stuck it in his mouth. When he saw Paulo staring, he did it for Paulo too. 

There was a slight twinge of awkwardness as they stood there side by side brushing their teeth. Paulo wrapped his free arm around Alvaro’s waist and leaned his head on Alvaro’s shoulder as they scrubbed at their teeth. He felt Alvaro’s soft laughter vibrating through his body.

“You okay?” Paulo asked once they’d rinsed their mouths.

Alvaro nodded. “Why do you keep asking me that?” he asked.

Paulo shrugged. “Just wanna make sure.”

“I’m fine. Promise.”

Paulo decided to believe him. They packed up their room, checked for anything they might’ve left behind, and dragged their suitcases over to Isco and Franco’s room. They sat on the armchairs and watched them squabble until Franco was contented with the neatness of Isco’s suitcase. Fortunately, they still made it out in time, before the sun rose, so they could find a nice place for breakfast on their way out of Miami.

Alvaro was quiet as they rolled their suitcases downstairs, checked out, and went outside to their camper van. He said he was tired, though, and crawled into the back. He unrolled one of the sleeping bags and curled up in it, in the middle of all their luggage.

“You okay?” Paulo asked, taking a seat on the floor of the van next to him. He placed a hand on Alvaro’s forehead. It wasn’t warm. “Hmm? You sick?”

Alvaro shook his head. “Just really sleepy.”

“You sure?”

Alvaro nodded. “Lie down with me.”

Paulo glanced at the front seats. Isco and Franco were looking warily over their shoulders. Paulo gave them a thumbs up and a minute later the engine started. 

Alvaro hugged Paulo close when Paulo laid down next to him. “Pau,” he whispered. “I want to talk to you.”

“Mmhmm?” Paulo smiled – he hoped it was an encouraging one. He gave Alvaro’s cheek a pinch. “What is it?”

“I wanna take a nap first,” Alvaro said, and then promptly fell asleep. 

It seemed like Alvaro had spent a lot of the previous night awake and thinking. So Paulo just stayed there and let himself be held because it looked like it soothed Alvaro. Paulo always found solace in the fact that he was able to make Alvaro comfortable. 

The ride was slow and a little rocky as Isco and Franco scoured the streets nearer the outskirts of Miami for a place they could get breakfast. But every jerk of the van seemed to lull Alvaro into a deeper sleep, like he was a baby in a rocker. And soon, Paulo found himself drifting off to sleep, too.

\------

Isco expected no less from Franco than to stop at the very last breakfast diner on their way out of the Miami Beach area. 

It was a rickety shop on the corner of an equally shabby building, but the interior looked freshly-renovated. Vertical white and sky blue wooden panels lined the bottom half of the outside wall. The inside had cream walls and the armchairs matched with the outdoor panelling. There were just a couple of customers enjoying their breakfast. 

Franco grabbed two menus and sat down. He pondered over it and Isco just watched him, knowing himself well enough to expect that he wouldn’t be able to make a decision and would just end up asking Franco to choose something for him. 

“What’re you getting?” Franco asked after a couple minutes.

“What should I get?”

Franco pursed his lips. “The full breakfast? I’m getting the full breakfast.”

“Okay.”

“Are we eating here or taking it to go?”

“Let’s eat here,” Isco suggested. Paulo and Alvaro were still sleeping in the back of the van and Franco had opened the windows a little for ventilation, so they should have been fine.

And being the  _ nerd _ he was, Franco went over to the counter to order instead of waving the waitress over. He came back with the order slip and sat down with a smile.

“Why’re you smiling?” Isco asked.

Franco shrugged. “Just happy.”

“Yeah?” Isco laughed. He had a feeling it had something to do with the previous night. “‘Cause you had the best foursome of your life?”

“Firstly, it was the  _ only  _ foursome in my life,” Franco pointed out. “And secondly, yes.”

“Yeah,” Isco said softly. “It was pretty great.”

Franco’s smile grew. “You enjoyed it?”

Isco nodded. “But do you think...it’s weird that I enjoyed it?”

“Why would you say that?”

“I don’t know, it’s just. Just. I feel a little bit like maybe I’m not supposed to.”

“Don’t be silly, Alarcon,” Franco said. “No one would blame you if you like it. I know I wouldn’t. You like what you like. And it seems like everyone had a good time.”

“Yeah,” Isco said again, thoughtful. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I just,” Isco reached across the table and took one of Franco’s hands in his. He gave it a squeeze. “I’m happy I got to experience it with you.”

Franco’s smile reappeared. He gave Isco’s hand a returning squeeze. “I’m happy I get to experience the rest of my life with you.”

“Do you think we scared the two of them a little?” Isco asked.

Franco wrinkled his cute little nose. “Not really.”

“We definitely scared Alvaro a whole fucking lot, though.”

Franco burst into laughter. “We did. Fuck. Alarcon. Do you remember his fucking face when we all said yes and then we turned to him?”

“I’ve never seen his eyes go that big.”

“Right?” Franco sighed. “We definitely scared him shitless.”

“You think he’s okay though?”

Franco gave that a thought, then said. “He is. He’d have said something if he wasn’t. You know he would.”

“I'm not so sure he will,” Isco said. “I mean, in the past, he definitely wouldn't have said anything. He never admitted that he was wrong or if he was feeling upset. But he's changed a lot since then. Now he talks about his feelings more. I'm just not so sure he’s over it. You know? Over his fragile ego. Over it enough to say something if he's troubled.”

“Maybe Paulo will talk to him,” Franco suggested. 

“Mmhmm. Definitely.”

Their food came and they started eating quietly, Franco neatly slicing everything up before he put it in his mouth while Isco just ravaged his plate like a starving caveman. He received some excruciating judgement from Franco over the rim of his coffee cup when he dumped two bulging teaspoons of sugar in his tea. 

It was a little quieter when Isco had finished his food, leaving Franco to pick at his own, as usual. He had cleared almost all of his plate save for a single chicken sausage, his favourite, which he always saved for last. He was restlessly poking a single line of holes down its length with his fork.

“Can I ask you something?” Isco asked.

“Yeah?” Franco said.

“Yesterday, during the...thing,” Isco started slowly. “When you had Paulo, and you asked Alvaro to come to me and to leave you two alone.”

The hole-poking stopped. Franco’s fork hovered in the air, a few inches over his plate. 

“Yeah?” he said timidly, eyes directed at the hole-ridden sausage instead of at Isco. 

“Did it mean anything to you?” Isco asked as gently as he could, just. Just wanting to know. Not just so he could find a reason to be mad at Franco or anything, but. He just wanted to know. “You know, like...like before. When you used to do it with him.”

Franco’s Adam’s Apple bobbed as he swallowed. “Why do you ask that?” he whispered.

“Alvaro was looking at you two,” Isco said. “And he was gonna go over and stop you. And I told him that it didn’t mean anything to you.”

“And now you’re thinking you were wrong?”

“No,” Isco said. “I’m just thinking about...about how eager you were. To get Paulo to yourself.”

“Are you mad, or something?” Franco sighed. “You’re mad. You’re mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you,” Isco said firmly. He reached for Franco’s hand again, and Franco didn’t recoil when Isco took it, which was a good sign. “I just want to understand.”

Franco sighed again. He gazed at his plate as he thought, now using the side of his fork to cut the sausage into little chunks of equal width, each with three fork punctures. He dug at Isco’s cuticles with his other hand. It hurt a little, but Isco was too distracted to really notice. 

“I am –” Franco started, then stopped to take his words back. “I was – I’ve always been. Been very...um. Very...sexually attracted. To Paulo.”

“And you still are?” Isco asked. He didn’t mean to sound offended. But he guessed it sort of came out that way, because Franco shrivelled a little in fear. “No, hey. I’m just asking. It’s just a question.”

“I...I am, yeah,” Franco said timidly, then launched into a long rant. “I mean, I just. I loved it when we, you know, when we had that thing. And for a long time, I missed it. Before I met you, when I was alone. I missed it. But just the sex. And I don’t know, it’s just, I’ve always had this...this attraction to him, and yesterday, you know, it’s like. Like I had the chance again. To do it with Paulo. When am I ever going to get a chance like that again? And I just felt like, like I had to do it. You know? But it’s not like that, it’s not like what you think, or what Alvaro thinks, or – Alarcon. I don’t feel for him the things I feel for you. The...romantic things. I just – I liked having sex with him. That was all. And not even – it’s not more than I feel for you. Sexually.”

“Okay, okay, hey,” Isco tugged on Franco’s hand until Franco was leaning halfway over the table and Isco could lean over to kiss him. “I know. Yeah.”

“Yeah? You do?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I love you, Alarcon. I’m not trying to save my ass here, or – or whatever. I love you. Only you. It’s never been anyone else.”

Isco smiled. He danced the fingers of his hand down Franco’s cheek. Maybe he shouldn’t have asked anything. Shouldn’t have made Franco think that Isco doubted him. “I know,” Isco whispered. “You don’t have to defend yourself to me. You know that.”

Franco nodded. Then shook his head. “Oh, my God,” he said, letting go of Isco’s hand and covering his face with his palms. “I’m a horrible person.”

“What?” Isco asked. “What? Why?”

“I wanna have sex with someone else’s boyfriend.”

“Franco.”

“And I have my own boyfriend! And I’m  _ telling him this _ !”

Isco got out of his seat and squeezed in next to Franco, shoving him until he had enough space. “Franco, hey,” he said, trying to pry Franco’s hands off his face. He eventually succeeded and was able to hold them in his. He gave them a squeeze. The frantic look on Franco’s face didn’t subside. “Listen to me, okay? I know you’re not going to act on these feelings. Urges. Or attraction, whatever you want to call it. I know you aren’t going to. And that’s what matters. Okay?”

“Yeah?”

Isco nodded. “Plus, it’s like...I have these...things, too. These...sexual things. Attraction. For other people. But you know they’re just that. I love you, Franco. Physically and emotionally.”

Franco nodded. It wasn’t actually so much of a nod rather than it was a dip of the head. Isco knew he had heard enough of Isco oversexualising everything to really, truly understand.

“You ever thought of having an open relationship?” Franco blurted. He appeared to instantly regret it, his eyes widening and his mouth dropping open like he couldn’t  _ believe  _ he’d just said that  _ out loud _ . “I mean –”

“Have you?” Isco asked, a little afraid of the answer. 

Franco shook his head quickly. “I mean, I thought about the concept of it. And that maybe you’d want it. And if you do, then – then I guess. I guess I’ll try. I don’t know. Do you want to?”

“No,” Isco couldn’t help but burst into laughter. “Franco. No. Why are we even talking about this? I want you. I just want you. You make me so happy in all the ways possible and I don’t want anyone else. Yesterday night was just. It was just fun. That’s all. I wouldn’t want to do that, like, often. You know?”

Franco nodded. Then he started laughing, too. “You have no idea how relieved I am that you said no.”

“Yeah?” Isco grinned.

“I can’t imagine sharing you with someone else. Like, in the long-term.”

Isco laughed again. That was such a Franco thing to say. He was more alike to Alvaro than either of them was ever going to be willing to admit. “You ever get sick of me ogling other people?” he asked.

“Nah,” Franco smiled this. This really gentle smile. “I like how we can ogle other people together.”

“Me, too,” Isco gave Franco a loud smooch. “Come on. Eat your sausage and let’s go.”

“Sounds dirty,” Franco said, but popped all the sausage chunks in his mouth at once and started pushing Isco out of the way. “Come on,” he said, muffled.

Isco winced when he got up. “My butthole still stings,” he said. “Stupid big tops.”

Franco laughed. He gave Isco a kiss on the cheek, then whispered, “You want me to kiss it better?”

“Not in public,” Isco whispered back.

“Why not?” Franco asked.

Three seconds of casual eyefucking as the cashier waited behind the counter for them to tell him what they wanted. 

They decided to order two club sandwiches, fries, and coffee for Paulo and Alvaro so they could eat in the van as they drove out of Miami. So they paid for everything and stood at the counter flirting with each other for the whole fifteen minutes it took for the food to be ready. 

“So on a scale of one to ten how happy are you that you got Alvaro to fuck you yesterday night?” Franco asked as they got their food and started walking out. 

“Eight, probably?”

“Really, not ten? Haven’t you been thinking of this since, like, I don’t like, since Alvaro hit puberty?”

“Fuck you,” Isco shoved him in the shoulder. “I don’t know. It was just...okay.”

Franco leaned in like he was able to say something conspiratorial. “‘Cause he’s not better than me?”

Isco burst into laughter. They’d reached the van and stopped next to it, so Isco grabbed Franco’s face and gave him a loud kiss. “Yeah, he’s not better than you.”

Franco grinned. “No one’s better than you, either.”

“I love you,” Isco whispered, closing the gap between their lips again.

“Me, too,” Franco smiled. He grasped the back of Isco’s head and kissed him again. “I love you.”

They looked into the back of the van and saw that Alvaro had already awoken, and was just sitting there facing Paulo watching him sleep as he held one of Paulo’s hands. He was smiling a little, one of those tiny smiles that Isco noticed only Paulo ever received from Alvaro. Then Alvaro lay down on his side, facing Paulo, and moved closer so he could kiss Paulo on the nose. Paulo gave him a small sleepy smile, and he laughed. 

“You think they’ll be okay?” Franco asked softly. “After yesterday?”

“I hope so,” Isco whispered.

Alvaro got up again and sat there watching Paulo. But instead of looking happy he now looked a little. A little confused. Maybe frustrated. His thumb ran circles over the back of Paulo’s hand.

“D’you think we ruined it?” Isco asked. “Oh, shit, we ruined it. We wanted to help but we ruined it.”

“Shh, we didn't,” Franco whispered. He watched as Alvaro leaned over and kissed Paulo again, on the cheek. Then he seemed to notice that there were people watching him, so he turned. “C’mon, let’s give them their breakfast,” Franco said.

He opened the back door and passed Alvaro the bags of food. Alvaro took them hesitantly, initially trying not to make any eye contact but eventually affording Franco and Isco a warm smile. “Thank you,” he said.

“Welcome,” Franco smiled back. He went to the driver’s seat and hopped in, like he’d become their designated driver for the first part of the road trip. No one actually said it out loud, but Franco seemed okay with the responsibility. Besides, he was the safest driver and he went at a decent speed most of the time.

Isco keyed Orlando into the GPS, because firstly there were a ton of theme parks there they all wanted to visit, and secondly the Kennedy Space Center was there and obviously that had been the first thing on Franco’s list once he’d seen that it was on their way out of Florida. It was a two- to three-hour drive away.

“You guys okay if we start driving while you eat?” Isco asked Alvaro.

“Yeah,” Alvaro called. He was blowing into his coffee to cool it. He managed to sip it without spilling it all over himself as Franco rolled out of their parking lot.

The start of the ride was quiet and peaceful. The radio was on, so low a volume it was only a pleasant murmur; the roads were clear and the city gave way to lush greenery as they left beachy Miami out onto the highway. Paulo had awoken and was having a hushed conversation with Alvaro; Isco watched them through the rearview mirror. Franco was gazing at the road ahead, one hand on the wheel and the other in his lap. The rising sun was casting orange hues on Isco’s side but some rays occasionally made it to Franco’s face. He looked happy.

Isco reached over the gearshift and placed his hand on Franco’s. “You are so beautiful,” he whispered.

Franco smiled the  _ shyest  _ smile. He took his eyes off the straight road and gazed lovingly at Isco, and. And the truth of Isco’s previous statement hit Isco yet again. Franco was beautiful. He was the most beautiful person Isco had ever seen or ever met. Isco would never, ever get tired of Franco’s beauty.

“I love you,” Isco whispered when Franco didn’t respond; probably because he was too shy, again. Isco loved his random bursts of shyness.

Franco’s smile grew bigger and brighter. “Love you, too,” he mouthed. 

The hushed conversations in the back of the van continued. Isco kept an eye on them in the rearview mirror occasionally, finding more serenity in the scenery that flashed past them. The next road sign they passed read  _ Orlando: 137 miles.  _

Isco fell asleep with his head rolling on the window, hand tightly held by Franco.

\------

Alvaro had a quiet breakfast with Paulo as the van rumbled along the highway. It was a rather smooth ride. Their coffees didn’t spill anywhere, at least. It was silent between them except when Paulo commented about the food or about the scenery flashing past. And even so, he spoke softly. Like it was still early morning for him and he thought that Isco and Franco must be some kind of freaks, just like Alvaro thought so, too.

Alvaro shifted to the back of the van when he was done with his food. He looked out the back window at the road that they’d driven past, stretching out for miles. It was nice. It was like riding shotgun, but. But from the back. Alvaro watched the red car that was tailing them. It eventually overtook them. Alvaro shifted his attention to the trees that were steadily retreating. 

Paulo joined him after he was done polishing off the leftover fries. “Hey,” he said softly, fingers finding the spaces between Alvaro’s. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro smiled. 

“What do you wanna talk about?”

Alvaro sighed. “I just,” he said, then shrugged because he didn’t know how to continue.

“About yesterday night?” Paulo asked. “Am I being too pushy? Tell me if I’m being too pushy.”

“You’re not,” Alvaro couldn’t help but laugh. “Yeah, it’s. It’s about yesterday night.”

“‘Kay,” Paulo mumbled. He tucked his head into Alvaro’s shoulder and waited for Alvaro to say something. Even as five whole minutes passed without Alvaro thinking of anything to say. He just waited. Like he just wanted Alvaro to know that he was there.

“Is it wrong?” Alvaro finally asked. 

“Is what wrong?”

“That I...that I liked it.”

“I liked it, too. Do you think that's wrong?”

Alvaro shook his head. 

“Then why do you think it's wrong for you?” Paulo asked. 

“I –” Alvaro sighed. He didn't really know how to say all these without sounding ridiculous. “I really – I think I might be a little. Attracted. To...to the both of them.”

To Alvaro’s absolute surprise, Paulo actually started laughing. Softly at first, but slowly increasing in volume. Alvaro glanced behind him and saw Franco peering at them through the rearview mirror. Isco, fortunately, was fast asleep. 

“What's so funny?” Alvaro asked. 

“You – what kind of attraction?”

“The sexual kind.”

“Alvi,” Paulo gave a little happy sigh. “Alvi. Baby. There's nothing wrong with that. Not to me.”

“It’s just, I'm confused, you know?”

“Why?”

“It's never been…like that. For me. I've never...felt sexually attracted to someone. Without also being...feeling romantic towards them.”

A short silence. 

“Does this count as cheating?” Alvaro asked. 

Paulo started laughing again, and  _ God,  _ Alvaro wanted to smack him. “Why would it?”

“You don't feel disturbed that I wanna have sex with other people?” Alvaro asked. “Pau. What – what counts as cheating?”

“To me? Personally?”

“Yeah.”

“It's the act of it,” Paulo said thoughtfully. “You know, sometimes people think about having sex with other people? But they never act on it. I know some people think that they'd be wrong to, I don't know, ogle at someone else’s ass when they have a boyfriend or girlfriend. But to me, that's – you can ogle at all the asses you want, Alvi. You know I’d appreciate the art with you. But I know you'd never act on it. You'd never go after another person while you're with me. And that's it for me. It's not a very obvious line. And it's personal. I mean, look at Franco and Isco. I bet they think about sex constantly, with any random person they see. But they're good. They don't step over the line they've set for themselves. And that time Isco slept with that dude – they talked it out, too. Everyone has their own thoughts about this, Alvi, and to me, it’s not cheating if you never act on it, if your loyalty to me trumps your thirst for whatever ass your eyes set themselves on. The fact that you're worried about this, it says a lot, doesn't it? If you were cheating, or you had the intention to cheat, you wouldn't be talking to me about it. Yeah?”

“You think so?” Alvaro asked. 

“Mmhmm.”

“I just think that it's so weird, you know? To be...to do all those things with them. And to  _ like it.  _ I mean, that's  _ Isco.  _ He's practically my brother. And the things I felt yesterday – I don't know, I've just never felt them before and. And I got a little scared. You know, every time I kissed you last night, all the kisses that came in between kissing Isco and kissing Franco – they all felt like coming home. Every single one of them. They felt like how coming home felt like.”

Paulo smiled. “I love you, Alvi.”

“I love you, too.”

“I think you just find it weird that there isn't the romantic aspect,” Paulo started slowly. “Because all this time you've loved sex but you also had the romance accompanying it. You know? With all your girlfriends. With me. Whereas me and Franco and maybe Isco, we’ve experienced sex without romance. So that's why you don't see the line between the two. That's why it feels like you're cheating.”

It was Alvaro’s turn to smile. Paulo was so good with words. “Thank you, baby,” Alvaro whispered. 

“Yeah,” Paulo said happily. There were three seconds of silence before Paulo suddenly blurted, like he couldn't hold it in any longer, “So, you like being fucked by Franco, huh?”

“Shhh,” Alvaro said frantically. “Paulo!”

Paulo only burst into more laughter, and had Alvaro not loved him more than anything else in the world he probably would already have opened the back of the van and thrown Paulo onto the roadside. 

“Do you?” Paulo asked. 

“Yes,” Alvaro hissed. “But don't tell anyone.”

“I'm not going to,” Paulo giggled, and then sighed. “He's pretty good, isn't he?”

“You think so?”

“Yeah,” Paulo said hesitantly. He tilted his head to take a peek at Alvaro, but when Alvaro made eye contact, turned back down to Alvaro’s lap.

“What?” Alvaro asked.

“I just wanna talk to you about something but I’m afraid you’ll be mad.”

“What is it?” Alvaro carded his fingers through Paulo’s hair, lifting Paulo’s head again. “Just tell me. I won’t be mad.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Paulo sighed again. He fiddled with the extra skin on the back of Alvaro’s free hand. Then he said, “About Franco, I just...I like him a lot. Sexually.”

Alvaro didn’t say anything. He didn’t know what to say. He felt a rage take over him – not the overwhelming, burning kind, but. But a gentle, throbbing rage. 

Paulo’s hand tightened around Alvaro’s. “You’re mad at me,” he whispered.

Alvaro shook his head but realised Paulo wasn’t looking at him. “I’m not,” he said.

“Really?”

“Really.”

A short silence.

“It’s – what I had with Franco, it wasn’t like anything else,” Paulo said slowly, so softly Alvaro had to strain to hear him. “Franco was different from anyone else. He was one of my closest friends. It was...it was very important to me.”

Alvaro understood. Or at least, a part of him did. The part of him that didn’t threaten to burst into a ridiculous rant right there and then. The part of him that remembered what Paulo had to go through _ because of him _ . 

“And Franco,” Paulo continued. “I really...I really did like Franco a lot. Sexually. Nowhere as much as I like you, but. But when I was with him, it was. I just. I really liked him.”

Another short silence.

“And you still do?” Alvaro asked.

No response from Paulo at first. Then some long seconds later he said, “Yeah.”

Silence.

“I don’t want you to think that I’d dump you for him, okay, Alvi?” Paulo continued. “It’s not that way. I love you, Alvaro. I don’t love anyone else. It’s just...just the physical pleasure. You know? And it’s not even – it’s not like what I get with you, either. It’s just. I don’t know how to explain it. Just know that it doesn’t mean the same thing when I say I like Franco that way. Okay? Alvi. Okay?”

Alvaro didn’t know what to  _ say _ . It wasn’t like he wasn’t replying Paulo because he was mad. Well, he wasn’t  _ that  _ mad, at least. But it wasn’t that at all. He just didn’t know what to say that would let Paulo know that he wasn’t mad. That Paulo shouldn’t ever be sorry for what he felt. That he understood, maybe, somehow. On some level, Alvaro finally understood.

Paulo gave a really sad sigh. “You think I’m a slut,” he said.

_ No,  _ Alvaro did not think that. In fact, Alvaro thought  _ he  _ was a slut. Since the previous night.

“You’re my favourite slut,” was all Alvaro could think of saying.

Paulo gave a little giggle, then seemed to remember that he thought Alvaro was mad at him. He peered timidly up at Alvaro. “I am?” he asked.

“Mmhmm.”

“You’re my favourite slut, too.”

Alvaro laughed. “Is that offensive? I feel like that’s offensive.”

“It’s not. We all have the right to call ourselves sluts.”

A short silence, but not awkward. Just for them to catch their breaths and collect their thoughts.

“Paulo,” Alvaro said. “I really enjoyed last night.”

“Me, too,” Paulo smiled.

“I just, you know,” Alvaro shrugged, jostling Paulo. “When Isco asked if anyone’s thought of a foursome, and you said yes, I thought. I thought maybe I’ve been holding you back all these years. Maybe you’ve always wanted to try this but me being around just. Just held you back. You know?”

“It isn’t like that,” Paulo said, without even the mildest hesitation. “I mean I understand how you’d think it’s sort of like you holding me back. But don’t think that way. I would never want to try anything like this without you. You get that? It’s just so different with you around. You’re not holding me back, Alvi. Sometimes, you know, you just think of something? But you never do it. It’s just a concept. That’s all it’s ever been for me. A concept. It sort of just...comes naturally, don’t you think? I mean, look at us. Four of us. Four men who love sex with other men. It’s...interesting to think about. Yeah? That’s all. You get that? Alvi, I love you.”

Alvaro couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, it is pretty interesting.”

“You’re not holding me back from anything, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I just think about these things a lot. But I’d never do them. You know? It’s not even that I’m stopping myself because I’m in a relationship with you. It’s just that I don’t want to. You know?”

“Will you shut up?” Alvaro whispered. He pressed his lips on Paulo’s, just to make sure. “Just be quiet.”

Paulo’s lips turned upwards. “You understand what I’m saying?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro whispered. “You think about sex a lot.”

“Alvi,” Paulo whined. “That wasn’t the point.”

Alvaro burst into laughter again. “Yeah. Yeah, I know what you’re saying. It’s cool. I understand now.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Silence again as the van rumbled on. 

“So you enjoyed being fucked by Franco, huh?” Paulo asked.

_ God _ , he was  _ never  _ going to let this go. Alvaro’s tiny boyfriend was never going to let go of this fact that Alvaro enjoyed being fucked by someone else and that it had awoken all the unspeakable things in him. 

“Why does that suddenly matter again?” Alvaro asked.

Paulo giggled. “Just wanna know what you think about Franco’s...uh, you know. His...yeah.”

“His skills. You wanna say his skills. Just say it. Say you wanna know about Franco’s skills.”

“It sounds ridiculous.”

“But you wanna say it.”

“Fine,” Paulo threw his hands in the air. “What do you think about Franco’s skills? God, that sounds stupid.”

“It’s, um, cool,” Alvaro stammered, suddenly realizing he didn't have an answer. “I'm, uh. I'm into it.”

Paulo beamed proudly at him. “Hey, so it’s – I felt a little bad that maybe I made you do things you didn't want to do. Did I? I'm sorry.”

“You didn't, don't be silly,” Alvaro said. “I mean, I was kinda...hesitant? I don't know. But it was more because I didn't know what exactly was in it. And not because I didn't want to do it.”

“Okay,” Paulo said softly. “Alvi. You're really not mad about me and Franco?”

“No.”

“Really?”

“I –” Alvaro sighed. “Maybe a little.”

“Oh.”

“I guess maybe I just need some time to get used to it,” Alvaro said slowly. “You know, these new things. I'm not...I'm not the jealous kinda mad. I'm just...just angry that I don't really understand it yet.”

Paulo smiled. “You'll understand, Alvi. You always do. You try so hard, you've been trying so hard and you always get it and I'm so proud of you.”

“I love you, Pau.”

“I love you, too,” Paulo whispered. “You know that, Alvi? You know?”

“I do, yeah.”

“I’ve loved you since the day I found out how to love,” Paulo said; so, so  _ softly  _ it was like he thought it was something precious, a fragile little bubble of a secret that would burst if spoken too loudly. “And every time I kissed you yesterday, every time we found each other, it felt like coming home, too.”

Alvaro grasped Paulo’s chin and tilted it upwards so he could kiss Paulo. A wave of familiarity rushed over him, the same wave as always, despite having already kissed Paulo more times than anyone could count. It was a warm, fresh feeling. Like having his muscles loosened. The emotional equivalent of putting down a heavy weight. Over and over and over again. 

It was quiet again after they pulled apart. Alvaro thought that maybe if the foursome hadn't happened, he wouldn't have been this way. He wouldn't have reacted calmly to Paulo telling him that he had any sort of attraction to Franco. He would have been mad as hell. Just like he had been just recently, when he’d seen Paulo being comforted by Franco after the Champions League final. But after the previous night, Alvaro was. Alvaro thought more clearly. Alvaro had realised what real, raw physical attraction felt like. And he understood why Paulo felt the way he did towards Franco. Because Alvaro thought – Alvaro thought he legitimately felt the same way. Towards Franco. 

“So,” he broke the silence, clearing his throat. “I guess we have another thing in common now.”

“What?” Paulo asked, confused. 

“You know, that we both like…” Alvaro tilted his head in Franco’s direction. “Y’know. Him.”

Paulo’s eyes widened before he gave a really loud, embarrassing gasp, and Alvaro didn't dare to peek but he thought since there was no sound from the front that Isco hadn't awoken. Which was good fortune all around. 

“You –” Paulo managed to say before Alvaro clapped a palm over his mouth. “You're saying you like him, too?” he asked in a more acceptable volume. 

“Yeah – I mean – I guess I kinda do. Yeah.”

Paulo started fucking  _ beaming  _ and he looked like his tiny cheeks were gonna explode and Alvaro was so  _ fond.  _ He grabbed Alvaro by the cheeks and gave him a few loud smooches. “Oh, Alvi, I’m so proud of you.”

“For what?” Alvaro laughed. 

“For being brave enough to admit it. For trying new things with me. For understanding me.”

Alvaro gave Paulo’s nose a little boop. “I mean, I'm not gonna figure it all out in one day, you know?”

“You're doing so good.”

Alvaro didn't think he’d ever stop being grateful that Paulo was by his side as he tried to figure his sexuality out. “Thanks, baby.”

“I love you,” Paulo whispered. 

“Love you, too,” Alvaro hugged him close again, tucking his head under Alvaro’s chin. “Hey, Pau. Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think that if Franco hadn't been the way he was,” Alvaro started slowly, forming careful words with the wild thoughts that had so suddenly invaded his mind. “That maybe you and him...you'd be together?”

“I’d still choose you, Alvi.”

“Not me. Just pretend I don't exist. This is a world I'm not in.”

“Well, I hate this world,” Paulo grumbled. 

Alvaro chuckled. “Just think about it.”

Paulo sighed, then went quiet for a long time, like he really was thinking about it. It wasn't something Alvaro wanted to think about, but now that he’d started, he couldn't stop. 

“Yeah,” Paulo finally said. “I guess – yeah. I mean, I know Franco is...I kinda know he likes me the same way I like him. And we were pretty close. It's just that we’ve never had that emotional or romantic connection, you know? Like I have with you. Or like he has with Isco. So maybe...maybe if he hadn't been aro. Or if I hadn't been in love with you. Yeah. Maybe in another universe. He’d like to say that. Franco likes to say that anything is possible in another universe.”

It was the answer Alvaro had expected, so he wasn't really mad or anything. Just a teeny bit jealous. But he understood. And he found himself grateful, again, that he’d met Paulo and they’d fallen in love and they had never stopped being in love for a single minute in the last eight years. 

Alvaro hugged Paulo more tightly against him. “Okay, yeah. Cool.”

Paulo looked up at him and smiled again. “Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.”

“It’s not possible in this universe,” Paulo promised. “Yeah? Never. Never possible. I promise. It will always be you.”

“It’s kinda sad, don't you think?” Alvaro asked. “When you think about all the things that could've been, that would've been beautiful if they had been – but they're not. And they never will be.”

“It's happening somewhere else,” Paulo said. “Somewhere out in the multiverse. Everything is possible, Alvi. Maybe in one of those universes, you and Franco are a couple. Hmm? How'd you like that?”

“I wouldn't like that at all.”

“Don't lie,” Paulo giggled. 

“I'm not! He scares me too much.”

“It's the scaring that kinda turns you on, doesn't it?”

“Fuck off,” Alvaro huffed, because well. It was partly true. It was how kind Franco could be despite being intimidating that was attractive. But it was a superficial thing. Not a reason to date. “Shut up.”

“Alvi and Franny sitting in a tree, K – I – S – S –”

“Paulo, shut up!”

“ – I – N – G.”

“Hey,” Alvaro nudged Paulo gently. “What about Isco? What d’you think about him?”

“Are you pimping your best friend out to me?” Paulo’s forehead dimple appeared. “Oh my God, we're pimping our best friends out to each other. What have we become?”

Alvaro burst into laughter. “C’mon, just tell me. He's hot, isn't he?”

“He's like a hotter version of me,” Paulo admitted. 

“Shut the fuck up, he’s not hotter than you.”

“Have you  _ seen him _ ?” Paulo waved at the air in front of him. “He’s hot. And he’s...he’s submissive.”

“The hell he’s not.”

“Sexually.”

“Oh. Yeah. Wait. You find submission hot?”

“Not exactly,” Paulo shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s kinda hot. Or maybe it’s just how much he wants to have sex. You know?”

Alvaro laughed. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

“He’s also, like,” Paulo shrugged again. “He’s a little kinky.”

“Kinky, huh?” Alvaro grinned. “You like kinky.”

“No I don’t,” Paulo said shyly, turning to the front to watch the road retreating again. “I mean, he's hot, but. I guess, maybe, I don't know. I don't know him well enough.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said. He turned to the front, too, and watched the white lines that marked the road lanes zoom past. He counted the number of red cars that passed them. 

He’d just reached eighteen when Paulo whispered, “Hey, Alvi.”

“Hmm?” Alvaro asked, turning to look at Paulo. 

“I just want you to know,” Paulo continued, not turning to Alvaro, just gazing dreamily out the back window. “Yesterday night meant a lot to me. Our friendship, the four of us, it means a lot to me. And yesterday night, what happened, it’s – it’s something I will never forget. Even if we hadn't said that it was going to be the only time it happens. I still would never forget it. And I'm just so, so happy that I get to experience these things with you. These life-changing things. I'm so happy that you're here, that you're always here. And I'm so happy that I get to watch you grow, to watch you change and understand. I'm so happy that you put in the effort for me.”

Alvaro gave his hand a squeeze and Paulo finally turned. He smiled and keened upwards to meet Alvaro when Alvaro leaned in for a kiss. 

“I love you,” Alvaro murmured. 

“I love you more.”

“Impossible.”

Paulo smiled. It turned into a grin, then exploded into a giggle. “Oh, Alvi.”

“What?”

“Remember when we walked in on them having sex, and you made eye contact with Franco and you were dying for like, six hours?”

“I don't –”

“You secretly liked it, didn't you?” Paulo chuckled. “And you got to experience it first hand! Oh, Alvi. I told you you had a crush. You just didn't know it.”

“Are you ever going to be quiet about this?” Alvaro asked. 

“Nope.”

Their phones suddenly chimed in unison. Alvaro opened the notification to see that Isco had sent them a few photos. He checked over his shoulder and Isco had already awoken and was now blabbering away to a very patient Franco.

It was a series of photographs taken a few seconds apart, of the backs of Paulo and Alvaro right then as they sat there in the back of the van looking out the back window. They were barely silhouettes in the photos; in the first one, they were side to side, both looking ahead outside. The second one, Alvaro had turned towards Paulo while Paulo remained in the same position. Third one, they were kissing. And in the last one, there was the vague hint of displeasure on Alvaro’s face as Paulo laughed, keeled over in pure joy.

“Voyeurism,” Alvaro commented lowly. “You’re right, he’s kinky.”

Paulo shoved him in the shoulder. It was Alvaro’s turn to keel over in laughter. “You know, if it’s worth anything, I think Isco really likes you.”

“Yeah?” Paulo asked curiously. “In what way?”

“He's always asking about you, about how you are. He's very supportive about you. I think he supports you more than he supports me.”

“So not sexually then?”

“No,” Alvaro said. “Why? Are you disappointed? You're disappointed he's not interested in you sexually.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Paulo said. “I'm not. Because I know he is.”

“Cocky little fucker, aren't you?” Alvaro laughed. He knew Isco was some degree of physically attracted to Paulo. Like, it wouldn't even be a surprise. 

“It’s nice,” Paulo said. “To know that he supports me. Even though he barely knows me.”

Alvaro smiled. Paulo’s desire, his  _ need  _ to fit in and to be accepted, was such a big part of him. It was such an important part of him and it was one thing about him that hadn't changed since Alvaro had first met him. And Alvaro would do  _ anything  _ to feed that fire burning inside Paulo. Just to bring Paulo closer to accepting himself as a person. 

“How long till Orlando?” Alvaro called. 

“‘Bout an hour,” Isco said.

Alvaro turned his attention back to the photos. They looked pretty good. Their silhouettes were stark against the brightness outside. They spoke many words even without any accompanying description. They were candid. Minimalist. Aesthetic. Paulo would've laughed at him for knowing these words, so he didn't say them out loud. 

Paulo leaned on Alvaro’s shoulder and watched as Alvaro posted those photos on Instagram in that order, captioning them with nothing but a single infinity symbol. He chuckled when Isco commented,  _ Where's the photographer credit?  _ and Alvaro replied with a middle finger emoji and a ‘ _ here _ .’

And for the first time in eight years, for the first time Alvaro remembered – Alvaro was comfortable in his own skin. 

\------

They reached Orlando fifteen minutes before noon, just in time for lunch. Everyone was fully awake by then, although Franco wasn’t sure if that was a good thing, because they were all making a fucking din in the van. 

The hotel was one of the high-end ones, smack in the middle of the city. They checked in to two separate rooms, no conjoining door this time, and then headed out for lunch.

Afterwards Franco dragged everyone an hour out of town to the Kennedy Space Center, because there was no fucking  _ way  _ he was going to miss that. No one seemed to disapprove of that. Not even Paulo and Alvaro, who were cuddled up in one corner of the backseat looking out the same window, even though they could’ve taken one window each or even gotten into the back of the van and stretched out instead. Weirdos.

Franco got them their tickets as Isco hovered around him teasing him for how nerdy he was being. Franco took a brochure and shoved it in Isco’s hands so he’d get distracted and shut up. 

Needless to say, Franco had done more than enough research for their trip here. They headed first to the Rocket Garden – well, actually, Franco headed there pulling Isco along, and Paulo and Alvaro just followed, ooh-ing and aah-ing at everything they saw, even though they hadn't reached the attraction yet. 

The Rocket Garden itself was a set-up of replicas of launch vehicles that had been sent into space. They  _ towered  _ over everything else. Franco looked up at them in awe, ignoring the pain it caused in his neck. There were eight rockets in all, seven mounted upright and one on its side. Franco wandered around their bases, reading the descriptions and occasionally eavesdropping on the nearby tour guide. It all felt surreal. Being among these towering structures, structures that had been built to go into space – it felt surreal. 

Isco tugged on Franco’s arm as they approached the Titan II. “Now you know how I feel when I have to look up to talk to you.”

Franco burst into laughter, turning so he could press his lips on Isco’s. Isco probably felt bored being dragged around like that. Franco felt a twinge of guilt as he pulled away. 

“Sorry, you must be bored,” he said. 

Isco shook his head and beamed. “‘s okay.”

“You can go with Paulo and Morata if you want,” Franco looked behind them but didn't see the pair. “Where are they anyway?”

“They complained about the heat so they went to find one of the indoor exhibitions,” Isco said. “Told us to go on without them.”

Franco must've zoned out again. God, that was such a bad habit. “You can join them if you want. I'll walk around myself. If you're bored.”

Isco shook his head again. “I wanna walk with you,” he said, clinging onto Franco’s arm and pressing his cheek on it. “I'm learning things.”

“Nerd,” Franco teased. 

Isco ignored it. He just continued grinning at Franco like Franco was the most awesome thing he had ever seen. Franco bet he at least came close. He gave Isco a kiss and Isco’s smile only grew. 

The rest of their journey through the maze of rockets was filled with chatter. Mostly from Franco as he told stories of the different launches those rockets participated in. Isco listened to them attentively. Franco found more amusement in the way Isco strained to look up at the rockets, one hand over his eyes to shield them from the sun. He found even more amusement when they got to the mock space capsules that they could actually get into, and Isco got so  _ excited _ it was like he was just a really big child and Franco just. Franco loved him. He wanted to put Isco in his pocket and bring him everywhere. Maybe he could drag Isco around in one of those capsules. 

“You having a good time?” Franco asked as they finally left the Rocket Garden and headed to the next exhibition. They only had time for a few, which was okay to Franco anyway, since Franco had already picked out the more interesting ones. 

“I’m having the most fun I’ve ever had in my life,” Isco proclaimed.

Franco was just. Just grateful to hear that. Grateful he had such a supportive boyfriend and grateful he had such accommodating friends that weren't stubborn enough to not try new things. 

They passed a few indoor exhibitions on the way to the Hubble Space Telescope attraction, spending only a few minutes at each of them as they passed through. They saw Paulo and Alvaro at one of them, just wandering around, not really as interested in the exhibition as they were in whispering to each other and giggling. Isco and Franco left them alone. 

The Hubble exhibition was right up Franco’s alley. It was a 3D, 4K show, and they’d arrived just in time for the next show’s entry so they managed to get seats near the middle. Franco got comfortable in his seat, turning to Isco to see if anything was going on with him. 

Isco looked comfortable in his seat, so it wasn't a problem. But he was gazing fondly at Franco’s hand placed on the armrest. He looked a little confused. His own hand was inches away, slowly sliding closer, like he wanted to hold Franco’s. 

“What is it?” Franco asked softly. 

Isco froze like he was caught red-handed doing something illegal. “Um,” he said sheepishly. “Can I hold your hand?”

“‘Course,” Franco chuckled. He wrapped his hand around Isco's and felt Isco relax. “Why not?”

Isco shrugged. “Just scared I was gonna disturb you.”

“Why would you be?”

“‘Cause you wanna watch the stars, and stuff, and I’d be distracting you.”

“You’d never be.”

Isco smiled. He slid his fingers tightly into the gaps between Franco’s. “You know when we were at that observatory in Vegas last year?”

“Yeah?”

“I wanted to hold your hand, too. But I was afraid you were gonna yell at me.”

Franco laughed. He couldn't help but. He had been so different back then. His and Isco’s relationship had been so different. “Yeah, Vegas Franco probably would have. But not me.”

“Not Orlando Franco.”

“Mmhmm.”

Isco smiled again. He gave Franco’s hand a squeeze, then put his 3D glasses on and relaxed into his seat. 

The show was. Spectacular was the only word Franco could find to describe it. From the establishment of NASA’s Hubble Space Telescope till the present day, they had seen so many things. So many stars, so many galaxies, so many glimpses of foreign worlds that might have been homes to other species. And Franco just. He was always dumbstruck at the fact that there were so many things about outer space that they didn't know about yet. That they'd already seen so many other space systems and yet there were more, there was always going to be more and more because the universe was still so  _ young  _ and there was still light from the edges of our universe that hadn't yet reached Earth. And there Franco was, holding his Isco’s hand, flying through all of it. 

He was embarrassed to say that he was almost left in tears when the show ended. He almost didn't dare to take his 3D glasses off, but Isco reached over and gently slid them off before holding Franco’s cheeks in his palms and softly kissing his lips. 

“I love you,” he whispered. 

And in that moment, Franco was so happy, he was so grateful that out of all the other places he could've been in the universe, out of all the other worlds, of all the other  _ universes _ – he was put in this one, to be with his Francisco Alarcon. 

Isco smiled when Franco didn't reply. He just pulled Franco a little over the armrest and cradled Franco’s head under his arm like Franco was his overwhelmed little baby. 

They still had plenty of time for the remaining attractions so they stopped by those that were nearby, getting more glimpses of space exploration. They managed to hop on a short bus tour where they could see and hear about NASA’s operational facilities. They saw the Hubble Space Telescope replica, towering above them. They visited the Space Shuttle Atlantis, an actual space-flown shuttle that had returned to Earth. It probably still carried some space dust. Franco really wanted to touch it.

“You wanna touch it,” Isco whispered as Franco stood there marvelling at it, tilted sideways with its doors open. It wasn’t even a question. It was a statement.

“No I don’t,” Franco retorted.

“You do,” Isco said fondly. “It’s been into  _ space _ . It has  _ space thingies  _ on it. You wanna  _ touch it _ .”

“So what if I do? I can’t touch it.”

“Yes you can,” Isco said defensively. “C’mon. No one’s looking. I’ll keep a lookout.”

“I can’t touch it, Alarcon!”

“Touch it, quick,” Isco muttered. “Just a tap. Just one finger. Now! No one’s looking!”

Franco put his entire palm on it for a single second. It came away slightly dusty. “D’you think this is space dust or just like, dust?” he asked Isco.

Isco examined his hand like it was something really important. “Probably dust.”

“Maybe a mix.”

“Yeah, definitely a mix,” Isco said proudly, nudging Franco with his shoulder. “You touched space, Vazquez.”

“I did,” Franco beamed.

“You’re never washing that hand ever again, are you?”

“Nope.”

Isco burst into laughter. It was Franco’s favourite sound. He held on tightly to Isco’s hand with his space hand.  

They found Paulo and Alvaro again, wandering around the gift shop. They skipped up to Isco and Franco, holding up a ten-page booklet. “For you,” Paulo said to Franco. “It was being given out.”

The cover was a colorful nebula, a satellite, and stars in the background. The title read,  _ Highlights of Hubble’s Exploration of the Universe.  _

“Thank you,” Franco smiled.

“It’s quite interesting,” Alvaro said earnestly.

Franco smiled at him, and there was this tiny awkward moment that Paulo broke by pointing at one of the displays across the store. “Hey, we saw something over here that you’ll like.”

Franco followed them. It was this huge solar system sculpture that consisted of rings around a central yellow sun, with all the planets revolving around it. All  _ nine  _ planets, including Pluto, probably because  _ everyone loved Pluto _ . And on second thought, it wasn’t really  _ that  _ big; it was about three-quarters of Franco’s armspan. When Franco looked closer he could see the moons of every planet, sticking out from the planet body with a thin metallic wire. Earth had one. Mars had two. Jupiter only had four, so Franco guessed they were just the Galilean moons. Saturn had – well, Franco couldn’t count those, but he recognised bluish Titan. Everything was moving smoothly around. Franco peered at the description and saw that it was built to scale – everything was to scale, not just the size. The timings at which these tiny planets orbited and rotated was also to scale. The tiny Earth took an hour to revolve around the sun, and about ten seconds to make one rotation. Neptune took a little less than a week to complete one revolution. And Mercury – Mercury took only fifteen minutes to go around the sun once. Franco watched it, the tiny little brown ball, as it moved quickly around the yellow center. He watched everything move in harmony, their orbits marked by guiding silver wires, elliptic instead of circular, at slight angles to each other. It was mesmerising. What kind of  _ genius engineering  _ was in charge of a creation like this? Franco was. He was simply speechless.

It took Franco a while to realise that Mercury had gone around the sun a few times, which meant Franco had probably spent a really long time just standing there creepily staring at the sculpture. He turned around and saw Paulo, Alvaro, and Isco standing together near the entrance talking. Franco hurried over to them.

“Sorry,” he said as he stopped in the space between Paulo and Isco.

“Hey,” Isco beamed at him as Paulo and Alvaro shook their heads. He held up a big shopping bag. “I bought you things.”

And then he proceeded to pull them out one by one right there by the store entrance, babbling away about how they had to look at them right away so they could exchange them if Franco didn’t want them. He pulled out t-shirts and a hoodie and a cap, all with the official NASA logo on the front. There was a tiny piece of a real asteroid. A postcard set with authentic space photographs taken by the Hubble Telescope. Franco loved them all. He couldn’t even  _ begin  _ to say how much he loved them all.

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing at the other shopping bag on the ground next to Isco’s feet. 

“That’s, um. That’s the thing you were looking at earlier. The...solar system thing.”

Franco gasped and literally  _ lunged  _ at the bag. He couldn’t help himself. He took out the box containing the disassembled solar system. “Oh, you didn’t have to!”

“I wanted to,” Isco said eagerly. He made a silly grabby motion with his hands. “You can put it together with your nimble hands.”

“It’s really expensive.”

“‘t isn’t.”

“Thank you,” Franco smooched him loudly. “I love it. I love you. Thank you so much.”

Isco beamed brightly at him, then at Paulo and Alvaro, like he was telling them,  _ Look how happy he is! He’s so happy! I made him happy! I did that!  _

Franco was so fucking in love.

It was nightfall when they got outside and to their van. Paulo climbed into the driver’s seat and started fussing around with it because Franco had it adjusted to all the ‘tall settings,’ according to him. Alvaro rode shotgun but he wasn’t being of much help; instead, him and Isco were just teasing Paulo until Paulo very kindly pointed out that Isco would face the same problems as him. 

And Franco? Franco just sat in the backseat with his boyfriend’s gifts and the information booklet from his friends, and he alternated between reading it, looking at the dark sky outside, and listening to everyone making a din again.

“Oh, shit, it’s so dark,” Paulo said as they pulled out into the entry ramp of the highway. “I can’t see!”

“You can see, stop being dramatic.”

“Well, I can only see like, three inches.”

“Is that the size of Alvaro’s dick?”

“Francisco!”

“It’s so dark!”

“Turn on your high beam, loser.”

A short silence as everyone held their breath so Paulo could merge into traffic.

“You guys, talk to me, I’m scared.”

“You’re scared of the dark?”

“No, I’m just scared in general.”

“Well, it’s only an hour’s drive.”

“An  _ hour _ !”

“Okay, we’ll talk to you.”

It faded into vague chatter in the back of Franco’s head. He finished reading the booklet in about ten minutes. Then he rolled down his window a little and felt the cool breeze hit his face as he tilted it upwards to look at the glimmering suburban sky. Then he read the booklet again, spending more time on the photographs.

“Hey,” was the next thing Franco registered hearing, from Isco. “Hi, baby.”

“Hi,” Franco smiled.

“How you feeling?”

Franco gave that a thought. Between the space shuttles, the 3D show, the Hubble Telescope images, the space dust that Franco was convinced lingered on his hand, and the real night sky outside right then, Franco could only think of one word.

“Small,” he said.

Isco smiled like he understood. He gave Franco’s hand a squeeze. “Tell me ‘bout what’s in that booklet,” he said encouragingly.

So Franco did, and he watched Isco’s eyes light up with every word he spoke, and he realised it was a million times more beautiful than every star he had seen that day.

\------

Their second and last day in Orlando was spent in a theme park. 

They were screamers. They were  _ all  _ screamers, much to Franco’s dismay. But only Franco’s. Paulo, for one, found it super amusing how Franco glared at them every time they screamed in unison. 

“Lighten up,” he nudged Franco with his elbow. “Do some screaming.”

“I don't wanna,” Franco said. 

“He does, he just doesn't wanna admit it,” Isco chimed in. 

But after some teasing from Isco, Franco started off by giggling his way down the next ride. Then he started yelling. And screaming. And Isco looked so  _ proud.  _

Anyway, that all meant that they were tired as hell by the time evening came. They crawled into the back of their van, together with all their luggage and random shopping bags because they’d checked out of their hotel, and had a three-hour nap all cuddled together in a heap. 

When Paulo woke up again he saw Alvaro outside, across the street, checking for cars before he crossed. He was carrying two big white paper bags. Looking at the dusk sky Paulo guessed it was dinner from the fast food restaurant behind Alvaro. 

God, they were all gonna grow way over their weight limits after this vacation and they were all going to get  _ fired  _ and they'd have to go live on a farm or something. But that wasn't such a bad idea. Paulo thought maybe he’d get along with the chickens. 

“Hey,” Alvaro said when he saw Paulo sitting in the middle of the space in the back of the van, between Isco and Franco, just staring dreamily out the window. “I bought dinner.”

“What is it?” Paulo asked groggily, pushing the middle of the backseat down so he could clamber into it. He was suddenly  _ starving _ .

“Fish and chips,” Alvaro said. “I thought maybe I could start driving so we can stop somewhere to sleep and get there by tomorrow morning.”

“Are you tired? Hungry? Have dinner first.”

“Not really,” Alvaro smiled. “Maybe later when I’m tired or hungry you can drive.”

“Okay,” Paulo said. He took two boxes of fish and chips and clambered over the gearshift to sit in the front passenger’s seat. “I’ll keep you company. Oh, maybe I can feed you.”

Alvaro looked pretty pleased at that suggestion. He waited for Paulo to key Savannah into the GPS and wrinkled his nose at the four-hour ETA before he pulled out of the parking space and headed towards the highway. 

It was pitch black by the time they hit the I-95, but the road was clear and Alvaro stepped harder on the accelerator. Isco and Franco remained asleep in the back, having found their way back to each other and now cuddling in a warm ball. Paulo methodically fed Alvaro fries and fish as they just. Just talked. Talked about nothing at all. Their headlights lighting up the three or so meters of road directly ahead of them was both terrifying and actually really peaceful. As their van rumbled along it was like no one else existed. Just them, the four of them and their trusty old van, and the miles of highway that stretched out in both directions. 

“This is kinda cool,” Paulo said, looking out the side window at the trees whizzing past. 

“Kinda feels like we’re floating through space,” Alvaro said.

“Yeah.”

A short silence. Alvaro reached for the radio and turned it up a little; it was playing songs from Paulo’s phone, so they ended up with another Spanish song. A tiny smile grew on Alvaro’s face. 

“I love road trips with you,” Paulo whispered. 

“Yeah?” Alvaro’s smile grew into a grin. 

“And you look so beautiful.” Because he did. Under the dim light of the back of the van that casted a brown shadow over Alvaro’s face. He looked so beautiful. 

“Shut up,” Alvaro giggled, taking one hand off the wheel to punch Paulo in the shoulder. “Are you flirting with me? You're trying to get me to have sex with you. In the middle of this darkness.”

“I am  _ not _ ,” Paulo retorted. 

Alvaro laughed again, then went silent. The silence lingered until Alvaro spoke again. 

“Paulo, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you ever…” Alvaro raised one hand in a vague gesture. “Imagine I'm him?”

“Imagine you're who?”

“Franco.”

“You mean when we're – when we're having sex?”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said softly. “I mean – never mind. It's stupid. Don't answer it.”

“Alvaro,” Paulo said gently. He wasn't mad. He didn't  _ want  _ to be mad. “I spent three years imagining that  _ he  _ was you.”

“I know, but,” Alvaro whispered. He shrugged. “Do you – you want me to be more like him? I can be more –”

“No,” Paulo said. “Alvi. I don't want you to be anyone other than yourself. Okay? This shouldn't be anything you should ever be worried about.”

Alvaro nodded. He swallowed hard. “Paulo, I just. Just want you to know that the talk we had yesterday, about everything. It’s...I really liked it. I’m so much more comfortable now. You know? I’m – I’ve never felt so good about myself, so sure, since I realised that I was in love with you. And I’m just hearing myself and I don't mean for it to sound like you made me feel bad because –”

“Yeah,” Paulo interrupted with a laugh. He  _ loved  _ his confused Alvi. “Yeah. I understand.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

There was a loud, raspy gasp from the back of the van. “Is that food?” Isco asked loudly, clambering over the backseat to grab the bag of fish and chips. “It’s food!”

He climbed back to sit next to Franco, who awoke with a sleepy groan at how  _ noisy  _ Isco was being. “Where are we?” he asked. No one responded, so he buried his face into Isco’s side as Isco started chomping on his food, occasionally trying to feed Franco, who refused to put anything into his mouth until he had rinsed it. 

“They're so cute,” Alvaro said softly. When Paulo turned to him, he had a tiny smile hanging on his face. 

“Yeah,” Paulo couldn't help but smile, too. “Complete opposites.”

“I can't really imagine them with anyone else.”

“Me neither,” Paulo said. “Hey. I can't imagine us with other people, either.”

Alvaro didn't stop smiling for the next couple of hours. Not even when they finally passed the “Welcome to Savannah” sign half past midnight and Franco made Alvaro do lots of weird turns so they could park next to a river and see the perfect sunrise. Not even when he and Paulo had to huddle in the backseat and try to go to sleep again because Isco and Franco were cuddled in the back of the van, whispering to each other about the darkness outside. Not even when they opened the back door and put their feet out, looking up at the stars Franco seemed to love so much, but also inviting a chilly wind inside. He just kept smiling and smiling and Paulo didn’t know what the  _ fuck  _ was up with his lips but he decided he’d just give them a kiss and try to go to sleep again. 

Paulo had the best sleep of his life, nestled in the Georgian wilderness and in the arms of his Alvaro. 

\------

Isco didn’t remember much about their road trip north. He barely remembered Savannah, or Charleston, or Charlotte, or Richmond. The day they spent at Virginia Beach, although it had an orgasm included, was almost forgotten.

All Isco remembered, all Isco looked forward to every day was waking up in the mess of sleeping bags and sleeping bodies of Alvaro and Paulo every single morning to the sight of Franco sitting at the edge of the van floor, watching the sunrise. 

Franco had this. This childlike look on his face when he thought no one was watching. Like his curiosity was threatening to spill out of all his cavities. He was so calm and so knowledgeable on the surface but he was truly just a very large child. He looked at the world with endless awe and Isco. Isco was always mesmerized by him. 

And also the view out their back door, of course. No matter who was driving or what time of the night it was, Franco always managed to find a parking spot where they would get the best sunrise view the next morning. 

Not that anyone woke up for it, except Franco. And Isco, some days. He took a photo of Franco’s back before he got up. That morning, they woke up in Baltimore. Or somewhere outside of it.

He crawled over to where Franco was sitting, still too distracted by the view to notice Isco. He shoved Alvaro’s feet aside and sat behind Franco, wrapping his arms and legs around Franco’s waist, making Franco finally notice him. 

“Morning,” he whispered, kissing Franco’s cheek and feeling the dimple it made when Franco smiled. 

“Hi, beautiful,” he whispered back. 

Isco grabbed a handful of Franco’s sleep-tousled hair and tugged until Franco turned to him. He tried to kiss Franco on the lips and Franco only hesitated a second before deciding kissing Isco was more important than the morning breath. 

“Gross,” he said after, anyway. 

“You look so hot in the mornings,” Isco said. 

“Only in the mornings?”

“All the time. But especially in the mornings.”

“Okay,” Franco chuckled shyly. 

They'd parked on a mud track somewhere in between Baltimore and Washington because they hadn't been able to decide whether they were going to stop by Baltimore or Washington DC first. Which was so typical of them, really. Isco and Alvaro were up for anything, but Paulo thought they should stop at Washington because it was on the way. Franco thought the detour up to Baltimore was better because he wanted to spend more time in Washington and not have to rush off.  And he didn't want to visit a big city in the middle of visiting two smaller cities because he was so fucking weird like that, and he wanted to slowly taper into bigger cities until they reached New York City. Whatever it was, Isco and Alvaro were not having  _ any of it.  _ Even Paulo had almost given in, having been tired out by Franco’s nonsense, had they not all just fallen asleep before they could finish. 

“Let's go to Baltimore,” Franco said. 

Isco burst into laughter. “While Paulo’s still sleeping?”

Franco grinned. “What can I say? Early bird catches the worm.”

But the sunrise was nice, the rays of the sun peeking up through the trees lining both sides of the mud road, slowly moving towards the center of their view. It sat just on top of the trees directly ahead of them as they watched it. 

“I don't think he’s gonna wake up so soon,” Isco whispered. “Let's sit here for a while longer.”

Franco nodded. He pulled Isco’s arms more tightly around himself and just. Just melted into Isco. And suddenly everything went still; everything went peaceful and Isco couldn't hear the sound of the tree leaves rustling, he couldn't hear the birds chirping or the wind blowing the fallen leaves and sand around. All he could hear was his heart beating against Franco’s back. 

“I love travelling with you,” Isco said. 

“Yeah?” Franco smiled. 

“Mmhmm. I mean. That's how I fell in love with you. You're so...so decisive and calm and so prepared, and you know so many things.”

Franco gave Isco’s hand a squeeze. “I love travelling with you, too. Even though you're a noob.”

“Hey,” Isco smacked him on the chest. “I'm a cute noob.”

“Yeah, you are.”

“It’s just, the previous time it was just for me, you know? It was to make me feel better about the Euros. So I thought – I thought we just did things that made me happy. I thought I was just biased because of that. But it turns out I'm not biased at all and you're really just. Just a great person to travel with.”

“You think so?” Franco asked. “You don't think...maybe I'm a little self-centered?”

“What do you mean?”

“I don't know, it just feels like we've been going to places I like. Like museums and that space thing.”

“I like them, too.”

“But what about Paulo and Alvaro?”

“They're okay. You know they're okay.”

“What if they aren't?”

“Franco, we spent half a week in Miami. That's like, Alvaro’s heaven. And you know that Paulo loves going to museums like you do.”

“You think that's okay?” Franco asked, and he sounded more worried. “I feel like...like I've been pampering myself too much and you guys are just being dragged along and I don't want it to be that way.”

“It’s not,” Isco said. “I promise. Paulo and Alvaro haven't even said a single peep about this. They look so happy, Franco. We've known them long enough to know how they are when they're upset.”

“You think so?” Franco asked again. 

“Mmhmm. Franco. I think we're acing our plan.”

Franco turned around and kissed Isco on the lips. “Okay, if you say so.”

“Although, if you want to make them happy,” Isco mused. “Maybe we could go to Washington.”

“No freakin’ way,” Franco said, giggling like an excited child as he hopped off the back of the van and ran to the driver’s seat. 

Isco loved his overgrown child of a boyfriend. 

He closed the back door and sat in whatever space he had in the back as Franco started the engine and drove them north to the nearest gas station so they could use the restroom to brush their teeth. It was a daily routine by then, though no one was as anal about brushing their teeth before breakfast as Franco was. The gas station part of their morning was usually when Paulo and Alvaro awoke. 

Not that day, though. Paulo awoke on the way there and made this really frustrated noise as he stretched out in the back, smacking Isco in the process. 

“You're fucking driving us to Baltimore!” he exclaimed groggily. 

“How do you even know that?” Isco asked. Paulo had literally  _ just woken up _ . He hadn't even sat up yet. He was just lying there with his eyes half open. 

“The sun is on the right of the van which means we're going north,” Paulo and Franco said in haunting unison. 

Oh my God, it was no wonder they got along so well. 

“Nerds,” Isco called. 

“You know,” Franco said. “We were in the middle, which means we were already farther north than Washington. Which means we’d have to detour anyway. So we might as well go to Baltimore first.”

“Stupid tall fucker,” Paulo grumbled. 

Franco grinned happily to himself as he pulled into the gas station. They brushed their teeth and got themselves some snacks to hold their stomachs until they found a place for breakfast. 

There wasn't really anything much to do in Baltimore. The weather was amazing, though, so they just walked everywhere, basking in the not-too-warm sunshine, gazing up at the clear blue sky, and observing all the antique facades. They had some time to pop by a museum or two and take a river taxi. They even had a proper American lunch, finally, at a restaurant. And dinner, too. Isco was so  _ stuffed.  _

In the evening, they took the hour-long drive to Washington DC. 

Paulo took the wheel this time, saying something about it being so that Franco wouldn't kidnap them to go somewhere else again. Isco called shotgun before either Alvaro or Franco could protest. Paulo gave him a conspiratorial grin as he slipped in next to him. Isco loved how he and Paulo seemed to silently understand their common need to tease Alvaro and Franco to no end. 

“So are things okay?” Isco couldn't help but ask. 

“What do you mean?” Paulo asked. Isco didn't blame him. Neither couple had breached the subject of the foursome to the other. 

“You and Alvaro.”

“‘Course, yeah.”

“Franco and I keep thinking maybe we ruined things. Like, we wanted to make sure you had a good summer but we ruined it.”

“How could anyone or anything be ruined after being fucked by Franco?” Paulo laughed softly, then seemed to realise what he had said. “Sorry.”

“Hey,” Isco said. “I know...um. I know about you and Franco. How you feel about each other.”

Paulo took his eyes off the road for a second to give Isco a furtive glance. “Um. Yeah?”

“Yeah. And I just wanna say that I'm not mad, or anything.”

“You aren't?”

“Or jealous. Yeah.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, I just,” Isco shrugged. “I just, I love him, you know? And I trust him. He's got it all figured out. Even though he may not know it. Franco always figures it out whether he tells anyone or not. And I get these things, yeah. I understand. And...I just. Yeah. I get it and I'm not mad.”

Paulo smiled. “Thank you,” he whispered. 

“Yeah, ‘course.”

“You know, Alvaro asked me if maybe Franco hadn’t been aro, that it was possible that we could have been together?”

“Yeah?” Isco asked. “He knows about this? Was he mad?”

“You know what?” Paulo laughed. “He wasn’t. I was surprised.”

“Did you tell him Franco would’ve said that it’s possible in another universe?”

“I did!” Paulo exclaimed, giving the steering wheel two light slaps. 

Isco burst into laughter. “God, you know, Franco is so weird.”

“I know!”

“I’m glad that you and Alvaro talked about this.”

“I didn’t expect him to take it so well,” Paulo said. “You know, that thing that happened that night...I think it changed him. At the very least, it made him realise some things.”

“He understands having sex just for the fun of it now.”

Paulo smiled. He looked a little proud. “Yeah.”

“I hope things are okay,” Isco said. “You know, ‘cause...I really enjoyed that night. And I don't want it to, like, affect the four of us. Make us awkward around each other or anything.”

“Yeah,” Paulo said. “I, uh...I really enjoyed it, too. You know.”

And he was  _ blushing  _ and he looked so cute and Isco started laughing again. “You guys will really be okay, yeah?”

Paulo smiled earnestly at the road ahead. “I think we will always be.”

It was. It was not only such a relief to hear that, but also it was just such a happy thing to hear. Because Alvaro was Isco’s best friend and Isco would give anything to see him happy. And Paulo, well. Paulo deserved all of this. 

“That's great,” Isco whispered. He took a peek behind them and saw Franco and Alvaro huddled over Franco’s phone, looking at something. “They look like they're having a good time.”

Paulo took a peek in the rearview. “Yeah,” he said, relieved. “Hey, Isco.”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think maybe I'll marry Alvaro one day?”

Isco chuckled. “Of course, yeah,” he said. He didn't think he knew of any other way this could play out. 

“You think so?”

“A hundred percent.”

“I just, I wanna, you know? I just don't know if he wants to.”

“Of course he does,” Isco said. “Hey. Don't worry about it. You have forever.”

Paulo nodded and smiled. “I really want to marry him. Like, right now.”

Isco burst into laughter. “How romantic. That's so romantic, Paulo.”

“Maybe we should drive to Vegas instead.”

“You can get married in Washington.”

“It’s wilder in Vegas.”

And then Isco told him the story of how he made Franco think they’d gotten married in Vegas and Franco had totally played him by saying he was already married, and it put the big genuine smile back on Paulo’s face and Isco was so relieved. 

The silence that trickled in afterwards was comfortable. Isco watched the sunlight flicker over the dashboard as it shone through the trees lining the highway. It eventually turned dark when the sun set, so he observed the billboards that flashed by. The next road sign read  _ Washington D.C. 17 miles. _

Franco leaned over the front seat, popping his head next to Isco’s. “Hey,” he said. He was smiling and Isco felt like it was lighting up the road ahead. 

“Hi,” Isco smiled back. 

“Your shoulders hurt?” Franco asked, his hands landing on Isco’s shoulders. 

They didn’t, but Franco started kneading before Isco could respond so Isco just went along with it. He took a peek at Alvaro and saw Alvaro just staring out the window, like he was counting streetlights again even though they were sparser over here. Franco gave Isco another smile when Isco craned his neck to look at him. He turned Isco’s head back to the front and started kneading Isco’s neck. He was like a strong little cat.

Isco rolled his head towards the window and Franco followed, his warm breaths crashing into the back of Isco’s neck. “Will you still do this for me when we’re old and your hands hardly work anymore?” he asked.

“‘Course I will,” Franco whispered.

Isco smiled and shut his eyes. He loved listening to Franco talk about the future. Not only because Franco was a master of planning ahead, but also because Franco had rarely, if ever, mentioned about his future with Isco. Isco knew it was nothing to be worried about. He knew that Franco just didn’t know how to put these thoughts into words. So getting these little snippets, these little hints of what Franco thought about his future with Isco, it just. Just made Isco feel so relieved. So wanted. Isco thrived off these little things Franco was willing to give him.

“Me, too,” he whispered back.

There was silence for the rest of the journey, each of them looking out their respective windows and Paulo out the front, and Franco’s hands still resting on Isco’s shoulders, occasionally moving up and carding through Isco’s hair. 

But there was nothing wrong. Isco knew by then that there was never going to be anything wrong between the four of them that would last more than a petty five minutes. And the thought of closing out the summer with the three best people in the world brought a bittersweet taste to his tongue, but Isco knew for sure that there was no other way he would rather have this.

\------

After two nights in Washington DC, they set off to their final destination: New York City. 

It was a four-hour drive, but they set off after dinner so it was dark by the time they hit the highway. Alvaro drove – well, initially, everyone wanted Franco to drive, but he said he wanted to sit at the window and look at the stars. What a nerd. 

Anyway, Alvaro was second in line, but Franco accompanied him in the front passenger seat because he was the most awake of them all. Isco and Paulo sat in the backseat, the back of the van having already been stuffed with all their shopping they were too lazy to pack. They were playing a game on their phones, the multiplayer game that Paulo played with Alvaro; Paulo must’ve roped Isco in somehow. It wasn’t actually that difficult to rope Isco into  _ anything _ . 

Alvaro tried making small talk for a while before realising that Franco didn’t seem to be in the mood to open his mouth. So he just stopped talking and concentrated on the road ahead of him. Franco leaned forward on the dashboard and watched the blanket of stars above them. He looked a mixture of happy and amazed. He didn’t take his phone out to snap pictures. He just. Just looked. Even though they practically looked the same throughout. Franco was so thoroughly entranced by them. 

It became a little brighter when they passed Philadelphia, the midpoint of their drive, so the stars faded and Franco sat back upright. He looked out his side window instead, and fiddled with his thumbs, like he’d realised it was beginning to be a little awkward.

The road was straight and clear, so Alvaro turned to the back to see what Isco and Paulo were doing. They were sleeping. Sleeping together in two rolled up little balls, legs tucked into themselves, heads leaning on each other, too deeply asleep to be concerned about how they looked. They looked like children. They looked peaceful. They both gave a coordinated little bounce when there was a bump in the road, then Isco sighed and snuggled up into Paulo’s shoulder like Paulo was just another pillow.

Franco turned to see what was so interesting. He gave a soft laugh when he saw. “How cute,” he said.

“Yeah,” Alvaro smiled. He turned his attention back to the road. 

A short, awkward silence. 

“Have you liked astronomy since you were little?” Alvaro asked. 

“Yeah,” Franco said. “My dad used to take me stargazing.”

“Cool.”

“I don't do it so much now.”

“Isco take you?”

“Yeah, but I don't wanna bother him or anything. I don't know if he really likes it.”

“He does, I think.”

“Yeah?” Franco asked eagerly. “You think so? I mean, he tells me he likes it. But I don't know. Maybe he's just saying it to make me happy.”

“He isn't,” Alvaro assured him. “He really likes it. He does a lot of research on it. And he talks to me about it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Another short silence. More familiar this time. 

“Thanks for planning this trip,” Alvaro said. 

“It wasn't anything much.”

“It is to us. Especially me and Paulo. ‘Cause it's like we’re intruding on your holiday.”

“You aren't,” Franco said kindly. “I'm glad you decided to come with us.”

“No,” Alvaro said softly, slightly frustrated that Franco wasn't getting it and pausing before he blurted, “We know that it was your idea to take care of us this summer.”

Complete silence from Franco, then a soft, “Um.”

God, Alvaro really had to learn how to shut up. 

“It’s really nice,” Alvaro said, trying to salvage the situation. “I mean, that you care about us.”

Alvaro didn't know what he was doing. He seemed to be making it worse. 

Franco cleared his throat. He had a slight blush and he was fiddling with a hangnail like he was really nervous. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, it was my idea.”

“We really appreciate it. I mean, it's not like we're best buddies, you and I.”

Franco laughed and Alvaro was relieved. “Yeah, I just. Yeah. I thought maybe it’d help.”

“It has. Thank you.”

“You're welcome. I didn't think you’d find out.”

“How could you think that when you have a blabbermouth boyfriend?” 

Franco burst into soft laughter again. “You're not wrong.”

“I just thought maybe you didn't want me to think you were soft,” Alvaro continued. “And I get that. I get that it's like that between us. But I just want you to know that I really appreciate it. We really appreciate it, me and Paulo.”

“It’s okay. Really.”

“This might just be the best summer Paulo and I have ever had.”

“Yeah?” Franco smiled fondly. He looked a little proud, too. “It's weird, don't you think? The thing you two have with summers.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said thoughtfully. “I’ve never gotten it either.”

“Maybe over time your phobia of this pattern just made it worse.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“This one’s cool, though?”

“Mmhmm. Super cool.”

“Awesome.”

“Are we actually friends?” Alvaro asked. “Sounds weird. But are we?”

“‘Course, yeah,” Franco smiled. “I mean, at the very least, we’re good wingmen for each other, aren't we?”

Alvaro laughed. “We totally are.”

“Plus, I’ve fucked you in the butt,” Franco said. With a completely straight face.

“Shut the fuck up,” Alvaro said, his cheeks feeling as pink as Franco’s had looked just a while earlier. “That doesn't make us friends.”

“Do you want to be friends or not?”

Alvaro decided that a silent defeat was better than saying ‘I want to be friends with you’ out loud to Franco, so he just gave a tiny shrug. 

Franco giggled childishly. They were moving out of Philadelphia and the stars were coming back, so he leaned on the dashboard again. 

“You know what this reminds me of?” Franco asked, head tilted awkwardly to keep an eye on the stars like he was afraid they would disintegrate if he looked away.

Alvaro was relieved that Franco was okay with talking now. He didn't think he could take another minute of the previous silence they had. “What?” he asked. 

“You know last summer, when I went to the west coast with Isco?” Franco started softly. “We were driving to San Francisco. I was sleeping in the backseat. He woke me up in the middle of the night because the sky looked like this and he wanted me to see it. He knew I liked it and he wanted me to see it.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro smiled. 

Franco nodded. “And then he said we couldn't miss San Francisco because it had his name in it. I told him it sorta has my name, too, but he told me to go find a San Franco. Then a while later he caved and said they call it San Fran so maybe we can share.”

Alvaro laughed. It sounded just like Isco. 

“You know, that night,” Franco continued in a whisper. “That was the first time I felt sad because I couldn't give Isco what I wanted to give him. It’d been a few days, maybe a week, since...you know, since I thought that maybe I felt something for him. But I thought I couldn't give it to him. And on that night it hit me the hardest because he looked so beautiful under the stars and I wanted to give him the world. But I couldn't. Or I thought I couldn't. And I just, you know. Maybe I loved him then and I just didn't know it.”

“You know it now,” Alvaro pointed out. “That's what matters.”

“Yeah,” Franco sighed. “Sometimes I wonder what i’d be doing if I’d never met him. You ever do that? Think about how different your life would be like if you hadn't met someone?”

“Of course, yeah.”

“And I can't think of anything,” Franco said. His voice sounded like. It was faltering and Franco was leaning his cheek on his arm and facing the other side so Alvaro couldn't actually see if he was crying or whatever. “It's just like. Like my life would be empty without him. You know? It was empty when...when we broke up that time. And I'm just. It scares me. It scares me how I'm  _ nothing  _ without him. I'm always – I'm always so scared that I'll lose him like I did that time. That I can't give him what I want to. That I can't tell him enough how much I love him, that he doesn't know how much I do. That I'm not enough for him. He thinks he's not enough for me, but. But he's so full, you know him, Isco is so full and he has such a big heart and he will always be more than anyone deserves. He's so  _ perfect  _ and. And I don't deserve him. I'm so afraid that one day – one day I’ll just be nothing again.”

“Hey,” Alvaro said, suddenly afraid he was gonna say something wrong and fuck everything up again. “I don't think you have to worry about it. Isco – you know Isco. He loves you so much. He’ll take all you can give him and he’ll love the fuck out of you. I'm sure he's already told you that.”

“He has, yeah.”

“I’ve never seen Isco this happy in the entire time I've known him,” Alvaro said, deciding the truth was the way to go. “I've never seen him happy for  _ this long.  _ Isco loves you, Franco. He has never loved anyone more fiercely than he loves you. It's the kind of love where – where it doesn't matter what you can give him. You know? It's  _ what he can give you _ that matters more to him. It's a selfless kinda love, you know? You two...you're the perfect mixture of a selfish love and a selfless love.”

Franco smiled. He tried discreetly wiping his tears but Alvaro spotted him doing it. “Yeah, we are,” he whispered. “God, I love him so fucking much.”

“Stop crying,” Alvaro said. “I don't think you're supposed to cry in front of me.”

Franco laughed. “Yeah, my insides are rebelling as we speak.”

“Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. I'll just pretend this whole conversation didn't happen.”

“I'm glad it did. You're a great listener, too.”

“Thanks,” Alvaro smiled. 

“If it's worth anything, I think you and Paulo should get married.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro laughed. “Yeah. I think so too. Maybe when we’re older and more settled.”

“You guys are so gross.”

“Us? Gross?” Alvaro scoffed. “You're the one leaving all your snot everywhere talking about how much you love your man.”

“It's a different kinda gross.”

Alvaro gave up trying to argue with him. They sat in silence for a while before Alvaro said, “Hey, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t get mad.”

“I won’t.”

“How did you ever know you didn’t feel anything for Paulo?”

Franco gave a soft sigh, one that didn’t sound as angry as it sounded like Franco was thinking of how he was going to put it in a simple way for Alvaro to understand.

Finally, he said, “I was always locked out of Paulo’s mind. He only ever had room for you.”

Alvaro didn’t  _ fully  _ understand that, but he thought maybe one day he would. He knew he was getting closer.

But it suddenly didn’t matter to Alvaro. He was just happy that they had this truce after everything that had happened at the beginning of summer. All the things that had made it seem like they were heading straight for yet another shitty summer. 

But looking at how it all turned out, Alvaro was pretty sure this was going to be one of the best. 

\------

Isco woke up when they were about an hour away from Manhattan. 

Franco and Alvaro were engaged in soft conversation. Paulo was, for some reason, asleep on Isco’s shoulder. Isco decided to not disturb any of them. 

Several minutes later Franco and Alvaro started arguing about something, as they were. Isco sat and dozed and listened. 

“It's an extra twenty minutes,” Alvaro was saying. “It's just a bridge!”

“It's a nice bridge!”

“Not if you need an extra twenty minutes to get to it.”

“Look, do you want to enter New York City in the most glamorous way possible, or do you wanna just pop up from underwater and be like ‘oh, looks like we're in New York’?”

“Either way, we'll be in New York!”

“But I wanna go on the bridge!”

“Too bad, you should've driven instead of looking at your stupid stars.”

“The stars are not stupid!”

“Just let him go on the freaking bridge,” Isco said sleepily, deciding he'd had enough. 

There was a shocked silence, then Alvaro said weakly, “But it’s an extra twenty minutes.”

“It’s not that far,” Isco said. He opened his eyes and saw Franco just  _ beaming _ at Alvaro and Alvaro just tutting softly at him. 

“Fine,” Alvaro grumbled. “Maybe if my boyfriend were awake he’d be on my side, too. This isn’t fair.”

“Let him go on the bridge,” Paulo murmured, without opening his eyes or even twitching the slightest.

Franco burst into delighted laughter. He reached for the GPS and gleefully dragged their route further up north to cross the George Washington Bridge. Then he sat in his seat with the smile still plastered on his face and watched their headlights light up the road ahead.

Isco loved him  _ so much.  _

Paulo went quiet again and Isco didn’t really know if he’d fallen back asleep, so he continued letting Paulo rest on his shoulder. It was all quiet again until they were in the middle of New Jersey and Franco was looking out the window and he gave a loud gasp because he could  _ see New York City _ in between all the shrubbery and it was lit up like a Christmas tree even though it was already midnight. 

“Let’s stop here!” he said excitedly.

“ _ Here _ ?” Alvaro asked incredulously. “We are literally in the middle of the highway.”

Franco gave a little squeal. “Take the next exit,” he said. He pointed at a road sign. “Weehawken! This one!”

“You know that if we took the original route instead of your lame bridge route, we’d be turning out here, right?”

“We’re still taking the bridge. After we look at New York City.”

Alvaro sighed in resignation. He drove all the way out to the pier and parked in the empty parking lot. Franco leapt out of the van and ran to the pier; it was rather cold out, so Isco grabbed their sweaters and followed him. He stopped next to Franco at the end of the pier. He could see the reflection of the city lights in Franco’s eyes. 

“So pretty,” he whispered to Isco.

“Mmhmm.”

Franco turned his smile to Isco for a brief second, then back to the Manhattan skyline. Then back to Isco again. Then he just held Isco’s hand tightly and observed the skyline. It looked like a photograph. It looked like all those photographs Isco had seen of New York City. And Franco – Franco looked like the most beautiful painting in the world. 

“I love you,” Isco whispered against Franco’s cheek. 

Franco turned, his lips first brushing Isco's cheek, then landing on Isco’s lips. “I love you, too.”

“Are you happy?” Isco asked.

Franco nodded. He gave Isco’s lips another kiss, then Isco’s forehead. Then he turned back to the city across the river; Isco could feel him getting lost in it. He felt Franco slipping into his own little zone like he had done so many times before, his little bubble where no one could disturb him. 

“I love you,” Isco said again.

There was no reply from Franco, but Isco was contented just watching the tiny smile on Franco’s face, his eyes opened the biggest they could go, taking in the whole of the skyline like the lights were the things giving him energy. 

About twenty minutes later Alvaro tapped them on their shoulders. “Can we go cross the damn bridge now?”

“A lil bit more,” Franco said dreamily.

Isco just gave Alvaro a ‘ _ let my boyfriend have whatever he wants _ ’ stare and Alvaro skittered away back to his own boyfriend, who was sitting on a bench looking like he was enjoying himself.

Franco was true to his word – ten minutes later he finally took his eyes off the shimmering city and went over to Paulo and Alvaro.

“We’re going over the bridge twice,” he said. Not  _ asked.  _ He  _ said.  _ “Once now, so we can see it all lit up and we can see all the city lights. And another time in the morning, we’re gonna drive back to Jersey and then into Manhattan again because it’s facing the east and we can see the sunrise.”

Paulo and Alvaro just stared at him. They didn’t say anything for a while, just stared and blinked slowly.

“Well,” Alvaro finally said. “I’m not driving.”

Isco laughed because he thought that Alvaro would just drive them all straight into the Hudson River because he was so tired of Franco’s weirdness. 

Isco sat in the front passenger’s seat as Franco drove the extra twenty minutes north and across the George Washington Bridge. It was lit up in silver lights, the supporting structures towering above them. It looked stunning as they approached it; it looked even more stunning when they were on it, driving to the edge of Manhattan, the weaning city lights welcoming them. Each section of streetlights sent a wave of brightness across Franco’s smiling face and he had that same dazed look on his face and Isco wanted to keep that image of Franco in his mind for the rest of eternity. He tried taking a photo but it was too dark, so he gave up and just watched Franco.

They managed to check into a hotel even though it was way past standard check-in times. It was smack in the middle of Times Square and they got two rooms on one of the highest floors. Franco spent some time at the floor-to-ceiling window again, just taking in the sights. Isco loved it when Franco did that. Franco was so beautiful when he was looking at the world this way. He was so full of curiosity and wonder and he looked so  _ young  _ in those moments. 

Franco showered while Isco sat on one of the armchairs, too lazy to get his butt anywhere to do anything but also too dirty to get into bed, especially having literally slept in a van for like, a week. 

He was awoken by Franco asking, “Do you wanna do the sunrise thing? I can go alone.”

Isco shook his head sleepily. “Just need a nap.”

“You think they wanna come?”

“Ask.”

So Franco did.  _ You guys wanna see the sunrise?  _

_ No,  _ they both replied at the same time. 

Isco chuckled. “We’ll just go ourselves.”

“Okay,” Franco said softly. He was looking at Isco with. With the softest look in his eyes, like if his gaze got too hot Isco would just disintegrate. He looked at Isco with all the love and affection and desire that Isco felt for him. “Go take a shower.”

“I’ll just nap in the chair.”

“You'll be sore. Maybe just change your clothes and get in bed.”

So Isco did that, relieved to have escaped the shower. He snuggled up to Franco, desperate not to close his eyes so he could just keep. Keep staring at this beautiful thing who called himself Isco’s boyfriend. He could hear Franco’s heart beating in his chest. It scared him a little that this softest sound was everything Isco’s life depended on.

Franco soon realised Isco wasn’t sleeping. He placed his hand over Isco’s eyes and gently closed them. “Go to sleep,” he whispered.

Isco fell asleep to Franco’s hand rhythmically carding through his hair.

\------

New York City.

Franco had always dreamed of coming to New York. And so far, in the five or so hours that Franco had been in New York, it was everything he had ever imagined. 

Isco sat quietly next to him as he drove back to New Jersey and so they could cross the George Washington Bridge again. All the sound that came from him was that of him crunching on an apple he’d grabbed from the fruit basket in their room. 

He started beaming when the sun started to peek through the Manhattan buildings, a sign that they should start driving back across the bridge. Franco turned to him and saw him just watching it dreamily, the blue-to-orange hue falling beautifully on his striking features. He’d finished chewing the bite he had in his mouth, and was just holding the half-eaten apple in his hand. 

Traffic was slow across the bridge, perhaps because people were starting to make their way to work in Manhattan or the further boroughs. They took a long enough time crossing the bridge to see the sun pop up above the shorter buildings.

“It’s beautiful,” Isco whispered. 

“You think so?” Franco asked. 

“Yeah.”

They continued inching towards Manhattan. The orange hue of the sky had almost disappeared when they got inland again. “Thanks for coming with me,” Franco said. He turned to Isco and Isco was already looking at him, the apple in one hand and his phone in the other.

“Don’t be silly,” he said. “I wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

Franco smiled and someone started honking at him so he made up the space in front of the van. Isco leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. “I love you,” he said.

“Love you, too,” Franco whispered.

“Do you wanna drive to Brooklyn?”

“Without them?”

“Let’s just go see how it looks like when the sun is still rising.”

Franco laughed because he knew Isco was just taking a dig at Paulo and Alvaro being lazy asses. But he also knew Isco only suggested it because he thought Franco would like it. 

Traffic to Brooklyn was heavy, but as they inched across the iconic Brooklyn Bridge Franco felt this. This warmth bleeding through his chest, this feeling of ultimate bliss and. And happiness. Franco had never felt so happy in his life. Never felt happier than he was right at that very moment, sitting next to his Isco Alarcon, taking in the sights of Franco’s dream city. Knowing that in this world there was someone who loved him as much as Isco did. Sure, Franco was paranoid about being empty again – but it was feeling as full as he did on that morning that powered Franco through it all.

The sun was already hanging in the sky when they were halfway across the bridge, drifting over the East River. Isco was peering out the window towards it. And Franco was just. He didn’t care about the sights anymore. He didn’t care about the lame sunrise or the plain old buildings. All he cared about was that he had someone to experience all this with for the rest of his life.

They got back to their room at around eight in the morning. Times Square looked different in the day; it was bustling and the sights were all lit up, but. But there was some sort of muteness to it. The daylight dimmed the colour of Times Square. The people bustling around seemed dull and monotonous. There just seemed not to be any life to anything, unlike in the night. 

Franco changed back into his pyjamas, which were clean. Isco, on the other hand, had worn his pyjamas straight out because he couldn’t be bothered to keep changing his clothes; when Franco turned he saw that Isco had climbed straight back into bed in those dirty clothes. Franco didn’t have the heart to say anything, so he slid in next to Isco, smiling when Isco moved to rest his cheek on Franco’s chest. He combed through Isco’s hair with his fingers again, hoping it’d send Isco to sleep. He looked tired. Franco loved that Isco was willing to follow him anywhere but Isco looked so tired and it broke Franco’s heart.

“Why aren’t you sleeping?” Franco asked when after several minutes Isco was still awake, playing with his phone instead of catching up on sleep. 

“Hmm,” was all the sleepy reply Franco got from him. Then a while later, “Stop touching my hair for a moment.”

“Why?”

“It’s making me fall asleep.”

Franco chuckled because that had been his intention. “Well, you should sleep.”

“Just for five minutes. Then you can continue.”

So Franco stopped for five minutes exactly. Then he continued and Isco gave a sigh and fell asleep with his phone placed face-down on Franco’s tummy. Franco took it and placed it on the bedside table right as his own phone buzzed with a notification.

_ Instagram: iscoalarcon tagged you in a post. _

Franco swiped it open. It was a set of ten photos of Franco.

Franco looking out at the planes taking off from the Buenos Aires airport when their flight had been delayed. Franco watching the Miami sunrise from their balcony. Franco looking at the schools of fish when he’d gone diving with Alvaro. Franco looking in awe at the towering rockets in the Rocket Garden. Three photos of Franco watching the sunrise from the back of their van in three different locations, the morning light reflected as rays in the corner of each photo. Franco squinting at the ocean at Virginia Beach, his hair blowing back on his head. Franco observing the Manhattan skyline from New Jersey the previous night. And finally, Franco that very morning, eyes glistening as they saw the sun rise over Manhattan from their trusty little van.

It was captioned,  _ I hope life will never extinguish the flames of wonder in your eyes. _

Franco scrolled through the photos again. Jesus, he looked so fucking nerdy, staring at everything like that. It was so embarrassing. Franco didn’t have any idea that he looked like  _ that _ . Maybe he had to tone it down a little.

But Isco having taken these photos – it brought a certain calmness to Franco. The thought that Isco accepted all that Franco was, that he welcomed the fact that he had to stand there and do nothing for at least ten minutes while Franco nerded out at every place they went. That Isco loved doing all of this with Franco, that he wanted to continue doing it for a long, long time. That Isco loved that Franco was this way, like a child, entertained by the minutest thing. In this way, Isco and Franco were similar. That thought brought an irrepressible joy to Franco’s heart.

Franco kissed Isco on the top of his head, through his hair. “I love you,” he whispered.

Isco gave a soft purr and wrapped his arms tightly around Franco’s waist. “Nerd,” he murmured.

Franco fell asleep feeling like the most loved man in the universe.

 


	10. When In Eternal Lines To Time Thou Grow'st

New York City was ridiculous.

Well, Isco certainly thought so. So did Alvaro. And Paulo. Franco was the only one who liked the damn place.

It took _hours_ to get anywhere. And it was so crowded everywhere they went. It was so crowded that the first thing Franco did upon leaving the hotel was find one of those t-shirt kiosks and buy five of those ‘I ♥ NY’ shirts for Isco, one for each day they were there, each in a different _bright colour_ so Franco could find him when he wandered away. He made Isco put on the green one, which looked fucking ridiculous. Isco continued wearing it only because Franco didn’t let him take it off.

After just a couple of hours of exploring, they ditched their van and just walked everywhere.

“Oh, God, I think I stepped in some poo,” Isco heard Alvaro say from behind them.

“Human or dog?” Paulo asked.

“Why does that matter? Poop is poop!”

Isco burst into laughter and Franco broke out of his trance to stare at him. “You’re the only one who likes this place,” Isco told him.

“Really?” Franco asked, concerned. He stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and immediately received a hundred tuts from the people around him. “You guys hate this place?”

“Yes,” Alvaro and Paulo said in unison.

“Not really,” Isco said kindly.

“We could go somewhere else,” Franco said. “We have a van.”

“No,” Isco tugged at his arm. “Maybe it’ll get better,” he told Paulo and Alvaro.

It didn’t get better.

They finally escaped into Central Park after lunch, armed with some hot dogs because Isco saw a cart and decided everyone should have one. He went over to it only to have Franco run up to him a few minutes later looking frantic and saying he was worried because he thought Isco got lost again.

“Well, looks like your stupid green t-shirt isn’t such a great idea in a freaking park, is it?” Isco asked.

Which didn’t help his case because Franco made him change into the pink one. Isco Alarcon. Wearing a fucking baby pink shirt and walking around New York City. Who the fuck would’ve thought of that?

Anyway, they found a bench overlooking a lake and took a seat; it was a quieter area of the park and honestly they deserved a rest, so.

“You know what’s the worst thing about New York?” Isco asked to break the tension.

Franco raised his brows.

“That I can’t wear my singlets around anymore,” Isco said. “Show off my big boys.”

Franco laughed and Isco was _so relieved_ to hear that sound again. “You can still wear them.”

“No, now I have to wear your lame tourist t-shirts.”

“It’s okay, you can save your big boys for me.”

Isco smiled. It all went silent again

“Maybe it’ll be better at night,” Franco finally said, the first words he’d uttered about New York since he’d found out he was the only one who liked the place.

“Don’t worry ‘bout it,” Isco said.

Franco turned and smiled, then used his thumb to wipe the corner of Isco’s mouth. He cleaned it on his napkin. “Mustard,” he said.

Isco kissed him on the lips. He didn’t really know what to say or do so Franco wouldn’t look so shaken.

“Hey,” Paulo called from the end of the bench. “We’re sorry we said we hated the place.”

“Yeah, it’s pretty cool,” Alvaro added.

Franco smiled at them and it lit up Isco’s entire world. “You guys think so?”

“Mmhmm,” Paulo mumbled.

“If you keep really quiet, you can still hear the noise of the city,” Franco said softly. It was more to Isco than to everyone, but everyone went quiet for the next ten minutes.

There were still distant but unmistakable sounds, the sounds that made a city what it was – cars honking, buses scooting by, police sirens from more than one location, the distinct sounds of people walking and just...yelling. The scent of smoke in the air, mixed with gasoline and exhaust and steam from the subway.

“It’s like, no matter what’s happening to you right now, the world goes on around you, you know?” Franco continued in barely a whisper. “We’re sitting here, the four of us, in our own little bubble, but the world goes on. That’s what I love about cities. They make you feel so alone, yet...yet so wanted. At the same time. Because each of those people you hear, no matter how soft they are, they’re going through their own complex lives. Just like you and me. And in a city like this, in a city that never stops no matter the time of day, you can’t help but feel like in this mess of a life there are other people who are here. Even if it is late. Someone is always gonna be here. The world goes on and on around you but the world is also in it with you. You know?”

There was no response from anyone, but Isco suddenly felt so fucking _in love_ that he just wanted to hug Franco and never, ever let go.

So he latched onto Franco’s arm and started kissing Franco, and Paulo and Alvaro started making disgusted noises from next to them.

“Jesus Christ!” Alvaro exclaimed, smacking Isco hard on the shoulder and standing up with Paulo in tow. “We’re leaving.”

“Bye,” Franco called softly, eyes still trained on Isco’s, even though they were half-opened and dazed.

“Sometimes I wanna dig a hole into your brain and see what’s in there that makes it so beautiful,” Isco said.

Franco burst into a fit of giggles. “Are you trying to talk dirty to me?” he asked. “It’s not working.”

“Don’t lie. It always works on you.”

Franco laughed again. He gave Isco a few loud smooches all over his face.

They sat there by the lake for a while, taking in the tranquility in the middle of the bustling city. They waited for Paulo and Alvaro to come back, but after thirty minutes there was still no sight of them, so they got up and left.

Halfway through the rest of their stroll through Central Park Isco got distracted by some dandelions; he plucked one of them and turned to give it to Franco but Franco had disappeared.

Isco took a deep breath and yelled at the top of his lungs again, “FRANCO VAZQUEZ!”

All the birds wandering at Isco’s feet waiting for nonexistent crumbs flew away in surprise. A few moments later Franco appeared from under a small bridge with a confused look on his face. “What?” he asked.

“You disappeared!” Isco said.

“I was just behind this bridge,” Franco said.

Oops, total overreaction.

“Make a wish,” Isco said, holding the dandelion out towards Franco. Half of its flowers had been blown away. “Oh.”

Franco laughed fondly. “There’s more,” he said, pointing behind Isco. He picked one for Isco. “You make a wish.”

Isco wished for Franco’s eternal happiness. He blew on the dandelion stalk and the wind took it towards Franco, splattering all the flowers over Franco’s face.

Isco burst into laughter. He couldn’t help it. Franco had been taken by surprise and he had the most _ridiculous_ look on his face, blinking and half-smiling.

“Oh, no,” Isco giggled, using his fingers to try and pink the flowers off Franco’s face. It was a little humid and Franco was sweating so it made it harder, and soon Franco started laughing too, which made it _even worse_ because then all the stuff got stuck in his million face wrinkles and they were both in giggling fits and they probably looked like a couple of crazy people standing in the middle of the park laughing to themselves.

Paulo and Alvaro soon appeared under the same bridge. “I know you weren’t calling us but we heard you so we came,” Alvaro said. He pointed at the birds that had returned to congregate around Isco and Franco’s feet. “Look, some of your friends are here, too,” he told Paulo.

Paulo glared at him and Isco and Franco burst into more laughter.

“What’s this? Some kinda dandelion mask?” Alvaro asked.

God, he was such a source of entertainment.

“I accidentally blew the dandelions into Franco’s face,” Isco explained.

“Is that some sort of euphemism?” Paulo asked.

“I wish,” Franco said.

“Wash your face, maybe,” Alvaro said. He handed Franco a half-drunk bottle of water.

“I’m not washing my face with your salivary remnants,” Franco retorted.

“Oh my God,” Isco said. “Nerd.”

“Lick them off his face,” Paulo suggested to Isco.

“No!” Franco exclaimed. “Stop with your stupid ideas. I’m just gonna keep rubbing my face and they’ll fall off. C’mon, let’s go.”

Then he stormed off and everyone followed him, which turned out not to be a good idea because Franco didn't have any idea where he was going and they ended up in an unfamiliar street when they finally left the shrubbery behind.

“I think we're on the opposite side of the park from where we entered it,” Franco said.

“You're the only one who would know,” Isco pointed out.

“I think we are.”

“We believe you.”

“What do you guys wanna do now?”

“Let’s gooooo…” Alvaro said thoughtfully. “To Brooklyn. We’ll start small.”

So they started driving to Brooklyn and it took them the rest of the day, to no one’s surprise at all.

“You know what,” Paulo said. “We should take the subway. It seems faster than all this driving around shit.”

Everyone went quiet for a minute contemplating that.

“We are so stupid,” was Alvaro’s conclusion.

It took them ages to find the right train to Brooklyn, and then when they were finally on it, Franco sat there in his seat all shriveled up on himself like he was afraid to touch any surface. Isco sat next to him; Paulo and Alvaro stood in front of them.

Paulo nudged Franco in the shoulder when Franco didn't move for an entire ten minutes. Franco gave a noticeable cringe. “What's up?” Paulo asked.

“Don't push me anywhere,” Franco said worriedly. “I don't wanna touch anything.”

“‘Cause it’s dirty,” Isco completed for him.

“I mean, I'm pretty sure my seat is wet.”

“Stand up, then, and let me try,” Paulo said.

So Franco stood up and stood next to Alvaro while Paulo made himself comfortable and everyone watched him.

“So?” Franco asked. “It's wet, right?”

“I don't think it is,” Paulo said.

“That's ‘cause I wiped it all off for you,” Franco said sourly.

“You didn't,” Paulo said, in a tone that indicated he didn't want to argue, so everybody just shut the hell up.

Brooklyn was certainly different from Manhattan. Everything was calmer over there. And made of brick. When night came the warm orange streetlights made everything look like it came straight out of the 80s. Franco certainly seemed to like it. Isco spent most of his time staring at Franco.

Paulo and Alvaro wandered away again, doing their own thing. They seemed to like walking down the smaller streets and taking in the less mainstream sights. They told Isco and Franco they'd meet them at the same subway station later and then they left.

“What did you want to do in New York?” Isco asked.

Franco shrugged. “Walk around. Go to some museums maybe. I don't know, I just like being in a city like this.”

“Yeah?” Isco smiled. “Yeah. I know.”

They walked quietly for a while before Franco stopped at a quiet street corner and said, “Let’s sit down for a while.”

Isco sat with him along the curb. There was a square brick building across the street from them; probably an apartment block, for there were gentle orange lights in some of the windows. From behind it peeked one of the structures of the Brooklyn Bridge, itself a greyish brick but lit up with big yellow lights. The sound of the Hudson River was soft and soothing.

“Do you prefer cities or towns?” Franco asked. He had his knees hugged to his chest, but he was holding on to Isco’s hand and playing with Isco’s fingernails.

“I like both,” Isco said.

“If you had to choose?” Franco asked softly. Then he added, somewhat hesitantly, “Like, when we’re...when we’re old, do you want to live in a city or a small town?”

Isco felt this overwhelming wave of emotion wash over him because – because _Franco_ was asking him where he wanted to _retire_. When they were _old. Franco wanted to grow old with him._

Isco turned to Franco. He looked a little embarrassed and like he was deliberately avoiding eye contact with Isco. Which Isco didn't blame him for, because it was what made Isco love him so much.

“Doesn't matter where,” Isco whispered. “City or town or beach or mountain. As long as I'm with you.”

The _brightest_ smile creeped over Franco’s beautiful face. “Yeah?”

Isco nodded. “Maybe we’ll end up on a farm with our fifty dogs.”

Franco chuckled. “Yeah. Yeah, I’d like that.”

“I love you,” Isco said. Franco looked so beautiful under the lame, generic streetlight above them. He was so gentle and so kind and he brought so much calmness to Isco's life. Whenever he was around Isco's mind just. Just became so quiet and so peaceful.

“I love you, too.” Franco whispered. He pressed his lips on Isco’s and Isco felt his heart erupt in flames. He couldn't wait for the rest of his life with Franco. He couldn't wait for all their new friends, all their new dogs, their new children. Their new homes.

They sat there making up stories about people again – except that there wasn't really anyone walking about, so they talked about the people behind the windows in the apartment building.

Paulo and Alvaro called but Isco and Franco decided to walk back over the Brooklyn Bridge instead, even though it was going to take more than an hour. Paulo and Alvaro begrudgingly agreed when Franco mentioned that it was practically the only exercise they were going to get on this vacation. They walked ahead of Franco and Isco, holding hands and chatting and occasionally getting distracted by something above them or in the river below them. Franco and Isco followed in a slow stroll – well, Franco was strolling, Isco was all up for walking quickly but he slowed down for Franco, who was still looking at everything with so much fucking wonder in his eyes.

“Don’t you think this place is shaped like a dick?” Isco asked as Franco stopped on the bridge to take a look at the southern tip of Manhattan from up high. “Manhattan is shaped like a dick. We’re holidaying in a dick.”

Franco laughed. “Yeah, it kinda is.”

“Kinda?” Isco repeated. “It’s totally shaped like a dick. Look at it.”

He pulled out his phone and showed Franco how Manhattan looked like in the maps. “That is one weird-looking dick,” Franco pointed out. “You should get that checked.”

“ _You_ get your dick checked.”

“But it suits us, don’t you think? Four dicks holidaying in a dick.”

“You gotta stop saying dick.”

“You fucking started it. Dick.”

They had dinner in Chinatown and then headed back to Times Square, picking their van up on the way there thanks to Franco’s excellent directional awareness. Paulo and Alvaro returned to their room, but Franco started walking out of the parking lot into the main street so Isco followed him. Most of the shops were still open, their signs lit up in what only seemed like colourful swirls among everything else.

Franco walked. He just walked and walked and Isco just held his hand and followed him, not sure where they were headed but also only vaguely caring. They walked past vibrant shop fronts and stopped at some of them. They walked down shady alleys and they crossed the road with what seemed like the entire population of Madrid. They just. They didn’t stop. As if all the walking they’d done that day hadn’t been enough for Franco.

They eventually ended up exactly where they started, at the iconic Times Square intersection, a couple blocks away from their hotel.

“It’s so pretty here,” Franco said tenderly, like he thought if he spoke too loudly all the lights would go off.

Isco chuckled. He was sure that despite Franco wanting to know where Isco would like to live when they were older, Franco had already made up his mind. He wanted to live in the city. In a high-rise with windows on every wall there could be, nestled within the city and sharing all its blazing lights. An apartment that would never, ever be dark.

“Maybe we can live in a city when we’re old,” Isco suggested.

Franco’s face fucking _lit up_ like it was one of those neon-coloured signs that surrounded them. He grinned at Isco, gave Isco’s hand a squeeze, and then let go and wandered off slowly. He stopped a few feet away right in the middle of the triangular walkway, just stopped and looked around above him with the same warm gaze he afforded to the rest of the new things he’d seen on their journey. The same warm gaze that Isco received from him every single time. But Isco would never get jealous that he had to share this beautiful part of Franco with so many other things in the world. He _could never_. Isco could only be humbled by the fact that Franco was willing to give him the same treatment as he did to other things that awed him.

Isco snapped a few photos of Franco, a lone figure in the middle of what seemed like _hundreds_ of other people but looking the calmest of everyone, staring up above him with the mildest little smile like he had just found himself in heaven. In the entire crowd, there was only him. Isco could only see him, in his generic white t-shirt and black ripped jeans but nonetheless shining the brightest.

He chose one of the photos, applied a blur filter around Franco, and posted it on Instagram with a Times Square geotag and the caption, _He’s beauty, he’s grace, he’s brighter than all the lights in this place._

He saw Franco check his phone and then burst into laughter all by himself, catching the gap in the parting crowd crossing the road, and searching and meeting Isco’s eyes within five seconds. He bounded over and wrapped his arms around Isco, lifting Isco off the ground.

“My boyfriend’s a tiny lil poet,” he cooed.

Isco burst into laughter. “‘Course I am. I’m the most talented poet.”

“You are.”

“C’mon,” Isco got back down on his feet, his arms still wrapped around Franco’s neck. “Let’s go back and watch the city from our room.”

So they did just that – they went back to their room, took a shower, then dragged the armchairs to face the window. They turned off all the lights in the room and just. Just soaked in the colours of the city. Their room faced right down the street, giving them a clear view right down to wherever Broadway ended. They were high enough in the hotel to have a clear view but also low enough to still be nestled within the skyscrapers.

“The world’s at our feet,” Isco whispered. It literally was, thanks to their floor-to-ceiling window.

Franco smiled and it was lit up in a purple and pink hue from below and it was the most beautiful thing Isco had ever witnessed with his own two eyes. “It is, Isco Alarcon,” he whispered back.

Isco pressed his cheek on Franco’s shoulder and fell asleep enveloped in all of Franco’s happiness.

\------

Unfortunately for Isco and Franco, their room had a connecting door to Paulo and Alvaro’s.

Well, it was only unfortunate for everyone who wasn’t Alvaro. Alvaro was thrilled, as per usual.

He helped himself every morning and evening, barging uninvited into their room and just. Just casually joining in whatever they were doing. Maybe they were watching TV. Or sipping tea by the window. Sometimes they were just cuddling in bed. Naked. Needless to say, Alvaro didn’t join them those times. He just sort of stood there creepily until they got up.

“One of these times you’re gonna catch them having sex again,” Paulo pointed out as he followed Alvaro across the wall another morning.

“No I’m n –” was all Alvaro said before he suddenly turned and practically threw Paulo back into their own room. “Oh, fuck.”

“Told you,” was literally all Paulo could say.

“They don’t seem like morning sex people,” Alvaro claimed.

“How do you even know that?” Paulo asked. “They wake up at like, seven. That’s plenty of time for sex.”

“Can we not talk about their sex lives now?” Alvaro asked. He pressed his ear to the closed door. “Do you think they’re done?”

“Alvaro, it’s been three seconds.”

Alvaro repeated that mockingly. He stood next to the wall like a guard while Paulo sat on the bed to wait. It was like his entire life depended on bothering Isco and Franco.

“Let’s just go downstairs for breakfast,” Paulo called. “They’ll meet us there.”

Alvaro followed him downstairs, where the breakfast buffet was already ready. They got a table for four and Paulo waited as Alvaro skittered around the long table for a while before coming back with two loaded plates, as expected, instead of letting Paulo have the trouble of getting his own food. Paulo’s plate had a large serving of scrambled eggs with onions in them, even though Alvaro hated onions. Or kissing Paulo after Paulo had eaten onions. Paulo decided Alvaro deserved a kiss for that. You know, before the onions.

Isco and Franco soon appeared, loitering at the buffet table looking ‘so fucking post-coital’ as per Alvaro’s words as he observed them over his heap of second servings.

“If I didn't love you I'd think you're jealous,” Paulo said.

“But I'm not.”

“Really?”

“Really. I just think they're interesting.”

And he wanted to see how they worked. Paulo sort of got it, really. But Paulo also understood that it was just the way it was. He knew Franco had a soft side; he’d rarely seen it, but he was sure of it. It was just that Isco had given Franco a reason to show more of it. Isco had shown him that vulnerability and losing control weren't things to be afraid of when it came to Isco.

Paulo turned to Alvaro. He knew he’d have a difficult time trying to explain it to Alvaro especially since Isco and Franco were headed to their table, so he just let Alvaro do his quiet observation. He’d tell Alvaro about it another day. They had plenty of time.

One of their excursions that day was to the observation platform of the Empire State Building.

Isco and Alvaro had been there before, the previous year with their team, but neither Paulo nor Franco had been. So of course, they took the liberty of dragging their boyfriends around the platform pointing out the different things they could see from up there. Which was, well. Practically everything.

Isco and Franco stayed at the side overlooking Central Park, sticking their faces in the rails as Isco jabbered about what they could see. Alvaro brought Paulo to the other side, facing the southern tip of Manhattan.

“This place is shaped like a dick,” Paulo said.

Alvaro burst into laughter. “That sounds like something Isco would say.”

“I bet he’s already said it at some point.”

“True.”

“Look,” Paulo said, sticking his face in the rails. It fit perfectly without getting stuck. “You can see the Statue of Liberty.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said softly. He stayed quiet as a sudden gust of wind blew their hair clear of their faces. “Hey, Pau.”

“Yeah?”

“You remember when you asked me if I’m leaving Madrid?”

A beat of silence.

“Yeah?”

“I...I think I will be.”

Another beat of silence, not just in the air but also in Paulo’s chest as his heart skipped a beat.

“To where?”

“London.”

The silence dragged on, marked only by Alvaro’s fingers drumming on the metal rails. It was a little annoying, but. But it also calmed Paulo. To know that Alvaro was there.

So, London. It was better than somewhere far away like Russia or the US or China or Australia. At least it was still in Europe. They could totally still deal with the measly one-hour time difference.

“Okay,” Paulo said softly. The view from the eighty-sixth floor suddenly seemed nauseating instead of spectacular, so Paulo turned to face the inside of the building.

“Are you mad at me?” Alvaro asked timidly.

Paulo couldn’t help but smile. He turned to Alvaro and Alvaro was just standing there in his original position, fingers clutching the rails but head turned to gaze sadly at Paulo. He gently rubbed Alvaro’s cheek with his hand. “I could never be, Alvi.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” Paulo whispered. He turned to the view again and waited for the uneasiness to settle at the bottom of his stomach. “Will you still want – are we –”

“Of course,” Alvaro cut him off quickly, grabbing him by the shoulders and wrapping him in a warm hug, making Paulo realise suddenly that he was _freezing_. “Hey. Yeah. Of course. You know I’d never give you up, Paulo. Never.”

“I love you, Alvi,” Paulo said in all the voice he could muster. He wrapped his arms tightly around Alvaro’s waist. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Alvaro whispered. Paulo felt his lips turn upwards against Paulo’s temple. “Aren’t you going to ask me which team?”

“Doesn’t matter to me. I’ll be proud of you no matter where.”

Alvaro’s smile turned into a chuckle. “‘Kay.”

“You’re still gonna tell me which team, though, right?”

Alvaro laughed again. “You gotta ask me what team.”

“What team?”

“Wildcats!”

“Alvi!”

Alvaro burst into a fit of giggles like he’d just made the funniest joke in the world. “Okay, okay. It’s Chelsea.”

“Cool.”

“You think so?”

“They’ll be a hundred times cooler when you’re there.”

“Only a hundred times?”

“Have to save some for me to be cooler when I’m with you.”

Alvaro grinned. He pulled away just to show Paulo that grin before hugging Paulo close again. “I love you so much.”

“Me too,” Paulo smiled as Alvaro hugged him off the ground again. He suddenly realised how different this time was from the previous time, especially after all the events of the summer that had brought them impossibly closer. Now he was sure – Paulo was sure that they would be okay.

Alvaro put Paulo down and turned to the view again. “You think this is the best summer we’ve ever had?” he asked.

“Definitely,” Paulo said.

“You think all our future summers will be like that?”

“I sure hope so.”

“Me, too,” Alvaro said softly. “For the rest of our lives. And not just summer. Every other season, too.”

Paulo smiled. Before he could say anything he was interrupted by Isco jumping in between in him and Alvaro and popping his head between theirs. “How's it going?” he asked cheerfully.

“Good,” Paulo laughed. “You guys?”

Isco only grinned in response. “C’mon, let's take a photo,” he said.

They ended up taking like, fifty photos in different combinations and orientations and whatever else because Isco and Franco were literally the worst people to take a photo with.

“You two kinda have that couple face,” Isco remarked as they scrolled through the photos.

“What's that?” Alvaro asked.

“You know, when two people are together for some time and they start to look alike,” Isco explained.

“That's a thing?”

“Yeah.”

“I didn't know that.”

“You know nothing, Jon Snow,” Franco said.

Paulo burst into laughter and Alvaro glared at him but he just looked _even more like Jon Snow_ which made Paulo laugh even harder.

“He _does_ look like Jon Snow!” Paulo managed to say.

Isco and Franco gave him identical proud smiles, Isco from right beside Paulo and Franco from the end of the line. “That's exactly what Franco said,” Isco said. “See? I'm never wrong.”

“That’s actually kinda creepy,” Alvaro said, ignoring everyone. “That we look alike. Like, I don’t know, brothers.”

“Alvaro!” Paulo exclaimed. “No one thought about that until you mentioned it.”

“Well, it’s true!”

“You didn’t have to mention it!”

Franco watched this, amused, for a while. Then he turned to the view and put his chin on the rail. Isco followed him. Then as if Franco had caused a chain reaction, Alvaro soon followed – which meant that Paulo had to, too. They stood there for a while in a row, Franco, Isco, Paulo, Alvaro, like idiots.

“You realise how we’re all the youngest in the family?” Franco suddenly asked.

“Yeah, that’s cool,” Isco said. The wind blew his voice away.

“We are?” Alvaro asked. “I didn’t know –”

“You know –”

“Yes, I’m Jon Snow and I know nothing.”

“That’s not how it goes.”

“Well, how does it go then?”

“You know nothing, Jon Snow.”

“Isn’t that what I said?”

Franco turned and afforded Alvaro a mild glare from across the line. Paulo caught Isco’s eye. He was smiling secretively.

“We’re all the youngest in the family,” Isco said again. “Yeah. Maybe that’s why we all get along.”

“Maybe that’s why we’re all spoiled brats,” Alvaro said.

“Speak for yourself. I’m not a spoiled brat,” Franco said.

“Okay, so maybe we don’t all get along,” Isco said.

Paulo laughed. “Well, I’m the youngest in _this_ family,” he said proudly.

Isco turned to him slowly in realisation. He hooked an arm over Paulo’s shoulder and said endearingly, “You are! And Franny is the oldest. Old man.”

It actually did fit – Franco was the oldest and most sensible. Paulo was the youngest and the most spoiled by everyone else, the most taken care of. And then there were Isco and Alvaro, the weird middle children that no one had any explanation for. The thought of it almost made Paulo laugh again.

“And Morata is the only one with a sister,” Franco continued after a silence.

“Cool,” Alvaro said.

“You know nothing, Jon Snow.”

“I didn't even say anything!”

“You were gonna.”

“Well, what do I not know?”

“What it’s like to live with two older brothers.”

“Or one,” Isco chimed in.

“Whatever, brothers are lame,” Alvaro said.

“But now you're stuck with us,” Paulo said earnestly.

“You're not my brother,” Alvaro wrinkled his nose. “Didn't you yell at me for saying that just now?”

Paulo rolled his eyes. “Not in that way,” Isco said. Franco just gave an exasperated, “God, Morata.”

“Well, in what way?” Alvaro demanded. “You guys gotta stop ganging up on me.”

“We are not,” Isco said. “You're stuck with us, as in, you're stuck with three male figures who will bully you like brothers do.”

“He really does know nothing,” Franco remarked, more to Isco than to anyone else. He had put his face back in the rail gap and his voice was drifting away.

Isco chuckled in response. They stood there silently for another while before they left. Isco and Franco lingering behind as usual, wanting to keep an eye on Paulo and Alvaro.

“Alvi,” Paulo said as they re-entered the street to a blast of humidity.

“Yeah?”

“We okay?”

Alvaro nodded and he smiled the gentlest smile in the world and Paulo almost melted into the warm concrete. “Always, Paulo Dybala.”

Paulo stopped to kiss Alvaro and fiddle with Paulo’s favourite clump of hair at the nape of Alvaro’s neck, and they got tutted at by at least seven different passers-by for blocking the walkway.

They parted ways after lunch because Franco was in his museum mood again and Alvaro was _not having it._ Instead, he just took Paulo’s hand and walked and walked, and Paulo didn’t really know where he was going but he followed. Alvaro had probably followed some kind of walking tour he read about, because they visited the main sights – The High Line, Chelsea Market (even though Paulo was convinced Alvaro only brought him there so he could make a ton of puns about his future club), past the Flatiron building, and then back past the Empire State to Grand Central Terminal. They loitered there a while, just taking in the ornate facade of the train station.

“I feel like this is somewhere you propose to someone,” Paulo said.

He regretted it the moment it came out of his mouth. It wasn’t like Alvaro had never mentioned marriage – in fact, Alvaro mentioned it more than Paulo did – but. Paulo just. He was just still afraid of scaring Alvaro away. The fact that Alvaro always mentioned it yet neither of them having acted on it was actually already testament enough to how they just weren’t ready to get married, even after all they’d been through.

Alvaro turned to him and smiled, his cheekbones reflecting the warm golden light above them. “Yeah?” he asked softly, before going silent for a while like he was waiting for Paulo to say something. Then he asked, “Well, are you gonna?”

Paulo giggled. “No,” he said. “Who am I even gonna propose to?”

“Oh, fuck you,” Alvaro laughed. He gave Paulo’s hand a squeeze. “Don’t worry, you’ll meet him or her soon.”

Paulo smiled. He placed Alvaro’s hand on the railing they were standing against and let go of it, draping his hand over Alvaro’s instead. “When, you think?” he asked. He figured Alvaro knew what he was asking. _When do you think you’d want to marry me?_

“Maybe a couple of years,” Alvaro whispered. He was looking at Paulo like. Like Paulo was the most precious thing he had ever set his eyes on. And in that very moment, that millisecond in which Alvaro paused, Paulo felt all his worries dissolve. He was so silly. He didn’t have any reason to worry. “Yeah? Or maybe four years. Then it’ll be 2021. Twenty one’s always been our number, yeah?”

Paulo didn’t care how many years he had to wait. He nodded at Alvaro and he smiled and Alvaro looked so _happy_ that Paulo couldn’t help but feel the exact same way. He wrapped his arms around Alvaro’s neck and pulled him down for a kiss, and he fiddled again with the hair at Alvaro’s neck, and in the sea of people rushing for their trains, under the grand golden light and the heavy decorations, nestled in the arms of his Alvaro – Paulo felt like nothing could ever knock him off his pedestal.

They managed to get the van from where they’d parked it earlier that morning, near the Empire State Building, because Alvaro informed Paulo that he’d slipped the keys into his pocket when Franco wasn't looking. He drove Paulo to Little Italy and they had Italian for dinner, which was really nice because it seemed like ages since they had their last non-American meal.

After dinner, they wondered about Isco and Franco for a while before deciding they couldn't be bothered to find out where they were. They were adults. They could find their way back themselves. Especially with Franco around. Besides, they were probably having a good time themselves doing all the stupid things Isco had in his big head.

They ended up parked in an alley that Paulo was pretty sure they hadn't been supposed to drive into, back facing the main road. They opened the back doors and sat with their legs hanging, watching the goings-by in the main street. It was so close but for some reason, Paulo still felt like he was watching a scene on TV.

“So,” Alvaro said after they’d spent almost an hour just talking about nothing. He nudged Paulo in the shoulder. “Wanna do it?”

Paulo burst into laughter. “Do what?”

“Oh, you know,” Alvaro said. When Paulo just continued laughing at him, he leaned over and kissed Paulo, shoving his tongue down Paulo’s throat and sending Paulo into this temporary dizziness.

“Okay, okay,” Paulo giggled, pulling away and blinking a few times to recover his vision. “Stop, people are gonna see us.”

“No they aren’t,” Alvaro said. “This alley is so freaking small. We can’t even open our doors.”

Which was true. They’d had to climb over the backseat to get to the back of the van because they couldn’t get out of their doors.

“And we have curtains?” Paulo added.

Alvaro fucking _beamed_ at him. “Yeah, we have curtains.”

Paulo watched in amusement as Alvaro clambered around the back of the van, pulling all their curtains down from their nook above the windows before shoving aside all their remaining shopping bags they hadn’t bothered to move into the hotel. He opened one of the sleeping bags and laid it out. Then he shut the back doors and practically pounced on Paulo, trapping him underneath and making him laugh again.

“When did you become so horny?” Paulo asked between all of Alvaro’s kisses.

“I dunno,” Alvaro mumbled, muffled against Paulo’s lips. “It must be because of you. You're so cute and I love you and I want to make love to you every day.”

“Gross,” Paulo reached for Alvaro’s butt and squeezed it hard. “You're so gross.”

“Do you wanna?” Alvaro asked, his voice fading as he moved to Paulo’s neck.

Paulo grasped a handful of Alvaro’s hair and lifted Alvaro’s head. He could still see Alvaro’s striking features under the sliver of orange streetlight that was allowed through the space between the curtain and the window.

And he knew that he couldn't say no.

Not only because Alvaro looked so fucking beautiful like that, but also because they hadn't had sex since the foursome and Paulo knew they, especially Alvaro, needed this to at least serve as a closure. To the whole scandal, or to this summer.

“Yes,” Paulo whispered. “I love you.”

Alvaro smiled. He pressed his lips on Paulo’s again. “I love you, too.”

Paulo let himself be devoured by Alvaro for a while, tongue and teeth and lips mingling until Paulo was so fucking _electrified_ , until he couldn’t tell where his body ended and Alvaro’s started. Until the sleeping bag below them was in a crumpled mess and the warmth from Alvaro slowly bled through Paulo and onto the cold steel bed of the van. Paulo pulled away, panting, hand grabbing the scruff of Alvaro’s neck like he was a little puppy.

“What?” Alvaro asked. Softly. Lovingly. God, Paulo wanted to die.

“You look so beautiful.”

Alvaro smiled. He gently pushed Paulo’s hair back on his head. “Why do you keep saying that?”

“Because it’s true.”

“Shut up,” Alvaro said shyly. “C’mon.”

Paulo pulled Alvaro down again and turned on his side, pressing his body against the length of Alvaro’s as their lips crashed together again, soft and familiar. He nudged one of his thighs between Alvaro’s and heard Alvaro sigh in relief as he started grinding against it. His hands wandered all over Paulo, fumbling in the most graceful way even though he was on his side, sliding under Paulo’s shirt and running over Paulo's abdomen. He pulled it off over Paulo’s head, moving on to Paulo’s jeans before Paulo could start on him or even _respond._ It was actually. Actually pretty hot how much Alvaro wanted him. How much Alvaro wanted him _despite having already tried it with other people._

“You think,” Alvaro started to say, but then got distracted by Paulo’s tongue and didn’t continue.

“What?” Paulo laughed.

“You think,” Alvaro began to say again. “We can do the...butt stuff?”

“Well, can you?”

“Fuck off,” Alvaro gave Paulo’s shoulder a shove. “You underestimate me.”

“Okay, butt stuff it is.”

Alvaro flipped Paulo on his back again, sitting on Paulo’s tummy as he undressed himself. He shimmied between Paulo’s thighs and hooked his finger under the base of Paulo’s underwear, pushing it aside to reveal Paulo’s dick. Then he just dove in, tongue flicking at Paulo’s hole, moist and quick, fingers pulling Paulo’s butt cheeks apart for greater access. Paulo tried taking his own underwear off but only succeeded in bonking Alvaro in the face, which made the both of them laugh.

“You gotta blow me better,” Alvaro said. “It hurts.”

“How is blowing you gonna help?”

“It just does.”

And that was how Alvaro found a seat on Paulo’s face.

Not that it lasted very long, because Paulo soon worked Alvaro into a sweat and Alvaro eventually fidgeted his way off Paulo’s face and back on his chest. He rocked his hips a few times, nudging his tip against Paulo’s chin as Paulo tried to catch his breath.

“You're so fucking hot,” he mouthed.

Paulo smiled lazily up at him, which appeared to only prove Alvaro’s point because Alvaro laughed fondly and leaned over and sucked Paulo’s lips off his face. He crouched between Paulo’s thighs again and eased into Paulo’s hole with his wet fingers as his lips played with Paulo’s dick. His lips. Alvaro’s fucking blowjob lips. Paulo didn't think he'd ever be tired of them.

“Come up here and kiss me,” Paulo whined, craving the softness of Alvaro’s lips. Especially so after Alvaro had worked hard with them and they were all red and tender. “Alvi.”

“You good?” Alvaro asked as he made his way up and hovered over Paulo. He gave Paulo’s lips a way too brief peck. “You think you okay?”

Paulo nodded. He dragged Alvaro down for another kiss, his tongue wandering between Alvaro’s lips. Alvaro was so gentle with him. Even though he was desperate and impatient. He was always, always gentle to Paulo.

They had to break apart as Alvaro aligned himself and slowly slid into Paulo, his nose booping against Paulo’s chin and his hair flopping over on Paulo’s face. He glanced up at Paulo with pure concern, making sure Paulo wasn't hurt. Even after all these times. After all the times they'd done it. Alvaro was still the same, he still treated Paulo with so much respect and affection and _God,_ Paulo thought he could just die.

Alvaro’s warm lips landed on Paulo’s again as he nudged himself all the way into Paulo, tenderly gobbling up all of Paulo’s soft whimpers. His hands, once free, moved to wrap Paulo’s legs around his waist before they grasped Paulo’s arms and pinned them down next to Paulo’s head. His hips began to rock as he pulled away from Paulo again to stare into Paulo’s eyes, his eyes merely two dark jewels slightly reflecting the dim streetlight a few meters away from their van. His hands slid further up Paulo’s arms for greater effect and his hips thrusted quickly, causing Paulo to buckle up and gasp. And Paulo. Paulo just wanted to kiss his Alvaro. He just wanted Alvaro’s lips on his but Alvaro was being a fucking tease and smiling at him from centimeters away and Paulo tried keening upwards but Alvaro’s hands were too strong. He felt like he was battling to get out of handcuffs.

Paulo’s struggling soon paid off as he broke free of Alvaro’s constraints, causing Alvaro to lose his balance and fall on Paulo. Paulo wrapped his arms around Alvaro’s neck and blindly found Alvaro’s lips, the feeling in his belly as he kissed them a mixture of relief and pleasure. He thrust his hips upwards and pulled Alvaro closer to him.

“Hmm,” Alvaro said, sounding impressed. He pulled away briefly to gaze approvingly at Paulo. After all, it was the first time Paulo had broken free of Alvaro holding him down. The first time he’d even _tried_. “Not bad.”

Paulo beamed at him. He hooked his ankles around the back of Alvaro’s knees and moved to Alvaro’s rhythm, curving his back off the cold, hard van floor. Alvaro's hips slammed him down again every once in a while, but instead of hurting, it just. Just felt amazing. Paulo just clung on to Alvaro’s neck and just let himself be fucking pounded into the ground. He heard the van start to creak, probably from how fucking violent Alvaro was being – yet somehow still so soft, so soft to Paulo. He was pretty sure he could also hear the doors scrape against the walls of the alley.

“Hold me down,” Paulo murmured against Alvaro’s jaw.

“Thought you didn’t want that.”

“But just don’t stop kissing me.”

“‘Kay,” Alvaro whispered. He trapped both of Paulo’s wrists in the palm of one hand, pressing them down hard against the floor of the van. His other hand curled itself around Paulo’s dick, jerking him off. His lips upturned against Paulo’s as Paulo gave a soft whimper.

“Oh, wait,” Paulo gasped, not being able to push Alvaro away and thus swinging his head upwards so Alvaro would pull back. “I know why you're so horny!”

“What?” Alvaro asked, amused.

“It’s ‘cause you saw Franco and Isco having sex this morning again, isn't it?” Paulo burst into laughter. “Is that it? Is that why you're so frisky?”

“No!” Alvaro shoved him in the shoulder. “What, I can't want to have sex with my own boyfriend?”

“Of course you can, but it’s _why_!”

“Pau!” Alvaro whined. “You're spoiling the mood.”

“Am I?” Paulo giggled. “Your sex mood can't be spoiled if it's caused by Franco.”

“Paulo!”

“Okay, okay,” Paulo laughed. “Okay. Continue, please.”

“You're ridiculous,” Alvaro said softly, resting his elbow next to Paulo’s head. He didn't let go of Paulo’s wrists. “I just wanted – I – yeah.”

“Yeah,” Paulo smiled up at him. He wriggled one hand free and used it to rub Alvaro’s stubble. “I know. Me, too.”

“Then why'd you say that?”

“I just love fucking around with you.”

Alvaro grinned. He looked a little relieved. “That's a little risky to say given that I'm inside you and you're so close to coming, isn't it?”

“Shut up, I’m not close to – oh,” Paulo’s hips buckled as Alvaro started thrusting again. “Fuck you.”

“C’mon,” Alvaro whispered. He tucked Paulo’s ankles under his arms and leaned over Paulo, his hand strengthening its grip on Paulo’s wrists, causing Paulo to curl up in the weirdest position. “Let's go.”

His large, gentle hand curled around Paulo’s length again, tugging at it together with his thrusts. His tongue earnestly explored Paulo’s mouth, and in the almost complete darkness Paulo just felt. God, Paulo felt so fucking gone.

Alvaro’s thumb landed on Paulo’s slit, applying the gentlest yet most sensitive amount of pressure. His hips thrust hard, like he was searching for the same thing Paulo was – like he was searching for it to give to Paulo instead of for himself. He breathed hard, a few words into Paulo’s mouth, words that Paulo couldn't even begin to comprehend. He was so high. Paulo was so fucking high and he didn’t _care_ that he was doing it inside a fucking van parked in some shady as fuck alley, he didn’t care that they were in the middle of nowhere halfway across the world. All he cared about was the trails of fire Alvaro left all over his body with his mouth, the cold ashes remaining where the flames had subsided from Alvaro’s departure – only to be reignited when Alvaro found his way back to them. All he cared about was the gentle sting from somewhere deep inside him, the throbbing where Alvaro was nailing him, again and again. All he cared about was that when he opened his eyes, he saw Alvaro watching him hungrily, taking in every one of Paulo’s gasps and shudders. And all he cared about was that someday, he could wake up every morning to these very brown eyes, and he could do that every morning for the rest of his life.

And he knew that when that day came, it was only going to be the beginning of the rest of Paulo’s life.

Alvaro let go of Paulo’s wrists when he felt Paulo give his climaxing shudder, allowing Paulo to pull him close, trapping Alvaro’s hand between their bodies as he desperately tried to continue jerking Paulo’s orgasm out of him. Paulo thrust his hips upwards hungrily, just. Just wanting to force it all out of himself. Paulo was. He was just so _gone,_ he was so fucking smitten by his Alvaro, his gentle, eager Alvaro. Alvaro eventually just gave up and collapsed on Paulo, letting Paulo grind himself up against Alvaro’s tummy until he was satisfied.

Paulo’s arms flopped uselessly against the floor as Alvaro pulled himself out of them to get into a sitting position. He grabbed Paulo’s dick again and gently slid his thumb underneath the tip, causing Paulo to almost leap up off the floor.

“Fuck!” he almost yelled, suddenly just. Just shaking again, even though he was already almost empty. He heard Alvaro chuckle adoringly and he just. “Alvi,” he groaned, collapsing on his back again.

Alvaro kissed a wet trail up Paulo’s tummy, his tongue swirling in circles to collect Paulo’s come and giving Paulo a fuzzy feeling in his stomach. He shuddered again and Alvaro gave a low murmur that sounded like laughter.

“Come on, it’s my turn,” he said when he reached Paulo’s lips. He gave them an encouraging kiss.

He sat with his back against one of the side windows and his dick, still a little moist from where it had been, bounced off over his v-line. Paulo crawled over him and made out with him for a while, lazily, realising quietly that he was probably going to fall asleep some time in the next ten minutes. Which was just as well, because he looked at Alvaro’s dick and he knew Alvaro surely wasn’t going to last ten fucking minutes.

Alvaro gave a moan of relief as Paulo lowered his lips over his length. He gently grasped a handful of Paulo’s hair and guided him along, his hips straining upwards to meet Paulo’s mouth. His body curled up around Paulo’s head as Paulo bobbed his head more quickly, hugging Paulo to his chest and giving loud gasps of breath into Paulo’s hair. His hand wandered down Paulo’s back, fingers warm yet ticklish as they traced down Paulo’s spine. Paulo felt the inside of his mouth get saltier, so he went at it harder, forcing Alvaro’s climax out of him. He got on his knees and moved more purposefully, unsheathing his teeth a little to run them down Alvaro’s length.

Alvaro gasped and buckled off the floor, sputtering some words that – well, that actually didn’t sound like words at all. In fact, Alvaro sounded like he was in pain. Paulo wanted to pull away to check on him but was only met with a loud groan of disapproval and a shove of the head.

Not that it really mattered after that, because Paulo barely lowered his lips over Alvaro’s tip before Alvaro came – loudly, for that matter, hips stuttering violently as he grabbed Paulo’s hair and yanked it around like he wasn’t even sure himself what he wanted to do. Paulo struggled against his grasp until he could reach Alvaro’s dick and apply some pressure to its length with the pad of his tongue and let Alvaro come straight into his mouth. He eagerly lapped at Alvaro’s abdomen like a dog, like. Like he was Alvaro’s bitch. God, Paulo really was Alvaro’s fucking bitch. But it didn’t matter to him. Paulo didn’t _care._

Alvaro had the same dazed look in his eyes when he was done. Paulo smiled at him and he raised a hand to lazily wipe some come off the corner of Paulo’s mouth. Then he hugged Paulo close to him again and sighed.

“You good?” Paulo whispered. He pressed his ear to Alvaro’s chest. Alvaro’s heartbeat sounded striking against his ribs.

Alvaro nodded. He gave the top of Paulo’s head a loud kiss. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Silence as Alvaro started to doze. He was half slumped against the side window, his neck at an awkward angle. But Paulo looked at him and he looked so peaceful and beautiful that Paulo couldn’t help but feel all the love in the world.

“Alvi,” Paulo called softly.

Alvaro jolted like he’d been awoken. He sighed and wrapped his long arms around Paulo. “Yeah?” he asked sleepily.

“D’you think you’ll ever get tired of me?”

Alvaro sat up slowly, softly holding Paulo in his arm until he could prop Paulo against his shoulder. He hugged Paulo tightly, pressing Paulo’s head against his collarbone, his fingers carding through Paulo’s hair. “Why would you think that?”

Paulo shrugged. He legitimately didn’t know. He just thought. Just thought Alvaro would get bored of him. Paulo was the most boring person he knew.

“I would never get tired of you, Paulo Bruno Dybala,” Alvaro whispered.

“Yeah? You think so?”

“Of course,” Alvaro said. He pulled away and held Paulo by his shoulders. “Pau. Why do you think this way? Talk to me.”

“I don’t know,” Paulo said softly. “I just think that...I don’t know. Just. You’re so amazing and I’m just...me. You know?”

“Paulo,” Alvaro mumbled. He leaned over and kissed Paulo for a while. “ _You’re_ amazing. You’re so amazing and perfect and I can’t imagine what I would do without you for even a day. I’m having so much fun. I have so much fucking fun with you, Pau, and I don’t want it to ever stop. Until the very last day of my life, I want to wake up knowing that I have you. I want to continue laughing with you. Continue thinking and planning and just _living_ with you. Paulo. I love you so much.”

“How do you know that?” Paulo asked, dipping his head so he wouldn’t have to look at Alvaro’s earnest garnet eyes.

“Well,” Alvaro said patiently. “How do you know you’ll never get tired of me?”

Paulo shrugged again. “I just do.”

Alvaro gently tipped Paulo’s chin back up. He gave a small raise of his eyebrows as if to say, ‘see?’

Paulo nodded and closed his eyes, diving into Alvaro’s arms as he wrapped Paulo up again. Alvaro was honestly. Honestly Paulo’s favourite person in the entire world.

“I love you,” he whispered.

“I love you too, Paulo,” Alvaro’s lips were upturned as they landed on Paulo’s temple. He flopped over on his side, wriggling until both he and Paulo were on one of the sleeping bags. Then he wrapped his freakishly long limbs around Paulo like Paulo was a bolster. “Let’s take a nap.”

Paulo snuggled up to him. They were warm and sticky and it was almost suffocating but Paulo felt a comfort he couldn’t describe in words. He closed his eyes and everything just. Just felt right and peaceful.

They had drifted off to sleep when the back door started to rattle, startling them awake. It was followed by tapping on the back window.

“Hey,” Isco said. “You guys inside? It’s us.”

“How’d they even find us?” Paulo asked sleepily. He felt Alvaro pull away, so he whined. “No, hey.”

“Paulo, what will we tell them? Quick, hide our clothes,” Alvaro said frantically, sweeping all their clothing under the sleeping bag they were in.

“We were having a nap,” Paulo said. It wasn’t a lie.

“But we’re _naked._ ”

“A naked nap.”

“Okay, but too much time has passed. Now it’s awkward.”

“Just put on your pants and open the door.”

So Alvaro did just that and almost hit Isco right in the face as he swung the back door open. Paulo lay there laughing and received a glare from the both of them.

“Hey,” Alvaro said, trying to sound casual. “How’d you know we were here?”

“Coincidence,” Isco said, crawling into the back of the van with a few shopping bags. “You had dinner in Little Italy too?”

“Mmhmm.”

“Why’re you guys parked here?” Franco asked.

“We were, uh, napping,” Alvaro said. _God_ , he had a knack for pausing at the wrong times.

Isco sat down in the middle of the van and gave the air a sniff. Then he turned and examined Paulo, who was wrapped up naked under the sleeping bag, from head to toe. “Did you guys have sex in here?” he asked.

“What?” Paulo and Alvaro said at the exact same time, too loud for it to not be obvious. “Why would you say that?” Alvaro asked.

“Air smells like sex, warm as fuck, shirtless, curtains pulled, parked in a shady alley, took five hours to answer us,” Franco listed passively.

Isco hooked a finger at the edge of the sleeping bag Paulo was in and pulled, retrieving Paulo’s grey underwear. He lifted it in the air for everyone to see. “This,” he said, deadpan.

Alvaro gave Paulo a ‘do you not know how to hide your underwear?’ glare. Paulo giggled.

“God, it’s so fucking hot in here,” Isco said, crawling over the seats to the front so he could blast the air conditioning. “You guys suck.”

“Sucked,” Franco said. “They sucked. Maybe a couple minutes ago.”

“Fuck you, Franco,” Paulo called. “We were really having a nap.”

“Yeah, we all know how Alvaro gets after he comes,” Isco said.

Paulo took a peek at Alvaro, who was blushing furiously. It made Paulo laugh again. “At least they didn’t walk in on us doing it,” Paulo said, a little too loudly.

“Yeah, like you did to us twice,” Isco said.

“I didn’t know you noticed the second time.”

“Of course we did. Alvaro, you walk like thunder. You think you’re some kinda graceful dancer but you’re not.”

Alvaro sat there fuming as Isco attempted to maneuver the van out of the cramped alley, grumbling when the van scraped against the walls. Paulo watched Alvaro. He was so handsome. And cute. And Paulo just wanted to cuddle him forever.

He wrapped his arm around Alvaro’s neck and dragged Alvaro down for a hug. He planted kisses all over Alvaro’s face and let Alvaro rest on his chest and Alvaro was soon smiling again.

Franco gave the both of them a judgemental glance, his eyebrows furrowing. Then he crawled into the backseat, calling, “Put your fucking clothes on, Dybala.”

Paulo did so, obediently. Alvaro did so, too, probably because he was a _fucking bootlicker_.

Then they fell asleep again in a sweaty pile as Isco drove them back through stuttering traffic. Paulo vaguely heard Isco tell them they’d reached, and then them just leaving Paulo and Alvaro in the van because neither of them responded.

“Alvi, you wanna go inside?” Paulo murmured, too lazy to form the words right.

“Hmm,” Alvaro said thoughtfully in his sleep. “No.”

Paulo smiled. “Okay.”

“Pau,” Alvaro whispered.

“Yeah?”

“You are my best friend in the entire world.”

Paulo felt his smile grow. “Yeah?” he asked again.

“And I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Hmm. We’ll go inside in a while.”

“Okay.”

A short silence.

“Pau,” Alvaro said sleepily.

“Yeah?”

“Do I embarrass you?”

“No,” Paulo chuckled. “Why?”

“Really?”

“Really. Promise.”

“It’s just that you’re so cool and I’m so weird.”

“I’m glad you noticed that.”

“Yeah.”

“No, I’m kidding.”

“I just thought that maybe you think Franco and Isco make fun of you for being with me because I’m so embarrassing.”

“Alvi, come on,” Paulo smiled. He kissed Alvaro above his ear. “Who cares? We have so much fun. And Franco’s one to talk, he’s the one who’s dating _Isco_.”

Alvaro laughed and it was the most beautiful sound in the world.

Paulo let Alvaro drape himself over him, his body taking the weight of Alvaro’s so incredibly easy by then. He heard Alvaro start to snore, and he knew Alvaro had given himself the liberty to forget that they were supposed to go inside.

So he reached up and opened the windows a crack so they could breathe, and relaxed underneath Alvaro until he was able to fall into the most peaceful sleep himself.

\------

Being in New York meant that Isco could finally talk to Junior every night instead of being stranded in some weird-ass place between towns struggling for a phone signal.

Sonia answered the phone when Isco called. “Why do you keep calling us? Are you tired of Franco?”

“No,” Isco retorted. He turned to Franco, who was looking intently at his phone with his neck supported by all the pillows on the bed save one, which Isco was lying on. He caught Isco looking and mistook it as Isco wanting his pillows back, so he very politely slid a few pillows under Isco’s head and lay back down. He was so cute. Isco loved him _so much_. “I am not.”

Sonia laughed. “Just kidding. You wanna talk to Junior? Here.”

Isco heard her make some baby noises to Junior, followed by him giving a delighted squeal and then finally, over the phone, “Hi papa!”

“Hi, baby,” Isco cooed. He saw Franco’s smile grow. “How’re you doing?”

“Good. I miss you papa.”

“I miss you, too.”

They went at it for a while, exchanging toddler formalities, punctuated in the middle only by a long silence on Isco’s side as Junior took his time to update Isco on the twenty-four hours in between this call and their previous one. Isco loved Junior’s voice. It was so tiny but so _loud_ and Isco _loved it_.

He noticed Franco glancing at them from time to time, like he’d been doing the previous times Isco had called Junior on their vacation. Like he wanted to participate, but wasn’t sure if he was supposed to. Isco turned the speaker on and asked, “Hey, wanna talk to Vazquez?”

He was met by the _loudest squeal_ , followed by a few incoherent words, and then by Sonia saying, “Okay, yeah, he wants to.”

Franco burst into delighted laughter. He took the phone when Isco gave it to him. He didn’t turn the speaker off, like he was afraid that would be crossing some boundary. He waited for Junior to calm down, then he said in the _softest_ voice, “Hello.”

“Hi Vazquez!” Junior screamed so loudly Franco actually pulled the phone away from himself.

“Hi,” Franco smiled. “How are you?”

And the entire babbling story restarted itself on speaker mode, but Isco knew if he just sat there Franco would feel like maybe he wasn’t supposed to be so close to Junior that way, like Isco thought he was being too prying or something and was keeping an eye on him. Which was absolutely the opposite of what Isco felt. So Isco got up and went to the window, sliding the curtains open so he could look at the street below them. It was kinda peaceful watching from afar, like someone had muted the television.

Isco was mesmerised for a while, only breaking out of the spell when Franco came over to pass the phone back to him. FaceTime was on and the timer on the screen read about forty-five minutes, so about twenty minutes must’ve passed. Junior’s face took up almost the entire screen as he continued screaming ‘Vazquez!’

“I don’t think he’s done,” Isco informed Franco.

“It’s okay,” Franco smiled. He gave Isco a long kiss on the lips, then went back and crawled into bed.

“Vazquez is tired,” Isco whispered into the phone. “Huh? You tired him out. Yeah?”

Junior giggled and Sonia laughed. “Hi papa,” Junior said.

“Hi,” Isco said again.

“He’s about to have dinner,” Sonia said. “Oh, here’s abuela with dinner.”

Isco watched Junior get passed around to have dinner, and then the phone get left on the table for a while until it lost connection and the call ended. Isco was about to get back into bed when Sonia called back.

“Sorry, disconnected,” she said. “So how’s things?”

“They’re okay,” Isco smiled.

“How’s things with Franco?”

“Why are you so interested in Franco all of a sudden?”

“I am not,” Sonia retorted. “Just wondering.”

“Are you worried about…” Isco gestured even though Sonia couldn’t see him. “Him with Junior?”

“No,” Sonia said kindly. “Not exactly.”

“Not exactly?”

“He likes kids, right?” she asked.

“Yeah, he does,” Isco said softly, turning and leaning on the window so he could watch Franco in bed. He was lying down again and curled up on his side, facing away from Isco. Isco could still see the rectangle of light from his phone. “Loves kids.”

“And you love him?”

Isco paused. “Oh, shut up.”

“No, I’m being serious.”

“Why?”

“You know, at your party a few months ago?” Sonia said. “And today too. I see the way he talks to Junior. He really loves Junior so, so much. Like, you know...I’ve never thought that there would be anyone who loves our son the way we do.”

“Me neither,” Isco whispered. Franco turned to peek and Isco gave him a smile to placate him.

“You think he’d…” Sonia started, and Isco didn’t _see_ her shrug but he could almost hear it. “You know, I don’t know. Maybe he’d like to be Junior’s dad?”

“He would, yeah,” Isco said softly. “I know he would. It’s just that...I didn’t know how you’d feel about all this.”

“I’d be glad,” Sonia said. “Yeah.”

“You won’t mind?”

“Of course not,” Sonia laughed. “Look. Isco. It’s an honour to have someone care for our child the way a parent would.”

“I think so, too,” Isco smiled. “It’s just that, you know, we’ve never, _ever_ talked about this and...I don’t want you to think that...that you won’t be a part of it. That if Franco becomes Junior’s second dad, then you have no part to play. Because you do. You always will have a part to play. Okay? You’re part of our family, too. I mean, if we...if we have one.”

Sonia chuckled softly. “Yeah. Yeah. I wish we’d...you know, that we’ll talk about it more. About...our relationships with other people.”

“Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.”

Silence as Isco thought about it. He watched Franco fidget in bed, stretching to reach an itch on his back. Isco was tempted to help him.

“Franco really wants to have a kid someday,” he finally said.

“Yeah?” Sonia said. “His own? Besides Junior?”

“I think he’s a little afraid to really see Junior as his kid,” Isco explained. “He’s...he’s like that. He doesn’t want to pry in other people’s families.”

“Yeah,” Sonia said thoughtfully. “Hey. You ever think of letting Junior call him papi? You know, instead of Vazquez. Sounds rude.”

“Franco doesn’t mind.”

“Isn’t your anniversary coming up?” Sonia asked. “Make Junior call him papi. He’ll be so fucking happy.”

“How do you even know our anniversary is coming up?” Isco asked. “Stalker.”

“Isco, your _parents_ know your anniversary is coming up,” Sonia said. “God. Everyone knows. It’s more of a surprise if I _didn’t_ know.”

Isco rolled his eyes. “You want Junior to call him papi?”

“Yeah,” Sonia said kindly. “Yeah, of course. I think they’d both be very happy.”

“You’re telling me the truth here, right?”

“Of course I am. He's practically already Junior’s dad.”

“Okay,” Isco finally said. “Yeah. I’ll think about it.”

“What’s there to think about? You want him to be Junior’s dad, right? You want to, I don’t know, someday get married to him?”

“Shh,” Isco said, even though he knew perfectly well that Franco couldn’t hear Sonia. He continued staring at Franco’s well-built back. “Well, yeah.”

“So?”

“I’ll think of how to make Junior say it for the first time.”

“Okay.”

“You’re so annoying.”

“Like you fucking aren’t,” Sonia said. “Pfft. I’m trying to help here. Alvaro told me you two are always sure of what you want but never sure of how to do it.”

“God, you guys are all chatterboxes.”

“Blah, blah,” Sonia said mockingly. “Anyway, I gotta go for dinner. Have fun on the rest of your holiday.”

Isco hung up the phone and crawled back into bed. He wrapped his arms around Franco and kissed him on the ear. “Hello, Franny.”

Franco craned his neck to look at Isco. “Hi, you.”

“You happy you got to talk to Junior?”

Franco nodded and smiled. “You didn’t have to let me do that.”

“I wanted to,” Isco said. “Hey. Vazquez.”

“Yeah?”

“Can we talk about something?”

“Yeah?” Franco said again, this time sounding concerned. He pried Isco off him and turned around, and he looked so worried and Isco was hit by a blast of guilt.

“No, hey, it’s nothing serious,” he said quickly. “Hey.”

Franco relaxed the minutest bit. “Talk about what?” he asked nervously.

“You know how…how you want a kid?”

“Yeah?”

“When d’you think you'll be ready for that?”

“Maybe...maybe in a few years,” Franco said timidly. “Three or four?”

“You think you'll only be ready in three years?”

Franco nodded. “Why? Don't you think I’d be ready?”

“No,” Isco smiled. “I think you're ready right now.”

Franco’s face sagged in relief, but then almost immediately tensed up again. “Why are you asking me this?” he asked. “You – it’ll just be my kid. It's okay if you don't wanna have a kid with me. You – you don't have to have anything to do with them if you don't want to.”

“It’s not that,” Isco whispered. “Hey. Franco.”

“Yeah?”

“I just want you to know that you'd make an amazing father.”

Franco smiled. He placed his palm on Isco’s cheek. “You think so?”

Isco nodded. “I've told you that a million times.”

“And you are an amazing father.”

Isco gave his chin a nudge, then placed his palm on Franco’s cheek. Somehow it felt much smaller than Franco’s did when Franco put his on Isco’s cheek. “Hey. I wanna have a part with your kid. If you'll let me.”

“Yeah,” Franco whispered, smiling. “‘Course.”

“I love you.”

Franco closed the gap between them and pressed his lips softly on Isco’s. Then he lay his head back down on his own pillow and just. Just looked at Isco with his eager brown eyes, the brown eyes that never failed to make Isco so calm yet so...so flustered, in a way.

“Franco,” Isco whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Would you wanna have a kid with me?” Isco asked. “Like, if it was physically possible for us to have a kid. Would you...wanna have a kid together? With me?”

Franco nodded, the biggest smile slowly making its way across his face. “Of course.”

Isco felt his stupid, smitten heart leap for joy. He put his palm on the front of Franco’s t-shirt and clenched it into a gentle fist. “Really?”

Franco nodded again, moving closer to Isco so Isco could feel his breaths on his cheeks. “His name would be Franco Junior and he’d be a carbon copy of you, and he’d be the most handsome boy in the world.”

That was – well, that actually came pretty close to what Junior was. Even the name was close. Somehow, Isco felt relieved to hear that.

“What if she’s a girl?” Isco asked, aware that he was just treading close to the line by now by asking all these lame questions.

Fortunately, Franco played along. Just like he always did, to entertain Isco.

“I don’t know,” Franco said softly. “Francesca? We’d be a family of Frannies.”

Isco giggled. “I think that would be really confusing for everyone.”

“I don’t care about everyone.”

Isco smiled. He gave Franco a little peck on the lips and Franco smiled, too.

Isco wondered how he had _ever_ managed to get himself a guy like Franco.

“I love you so much,” Isco whispered, pushing his head into Franco’s chest.

“I love you, too,” Franco kissed the top of Isco’s head. “But you didn’t close the curtains.”

Isco laughed. It was muffled in Franco’s warmth. “You look good bathed in purple lights.”

“I look good bathed in anything.”

He wasn’t wrong, so Isco kept quiet.

He heard Franco slip into a peaceful sleep still curled around Isco, sighing every few breaths as he did. His arms instinctively curled more tightly around Isco, protectively, like he did in his sleep every other night, finding his way across the bed back to Isco even if they’d gotten in a fight immediately before. And Isco. Isco never failed to feel immensely peaceful whenever he was right there, nestled in the arms of the giant love of his life.

\------

So, not unexpectedly at all, Isco seemed to enjoy breakfast the most out of all their daily events. Nearing the end of the trip, even Paulo and Alvaro got up early enough to join in all the breakfast fun. Well, kinda. They mostly went downstairs way ahead of Isco and Franco – after Alvaro decided he’d had enough of random cozying up to them for the day, that is – and sat at their table glancing at Isco and Franco and whispering about them.

Franco couldn’t believe he was stuck with these three musketeers.

Anyway, their last morning in New York started off with Isco grumbling about how his hair was overgrown. He sat in bed and fiddled with his hair as Franco dozed, before moving to the mirror and examining his hairline.

“My hairline is weird,” he called.

“Oh my God,” Franco said. “I’ve been telling you that for like, eight months.”

“It gets weirder when my hair is longer. And my hair isn’t even anymore. It looks like everything is of different lengths.”

“Like a bush?”

“Are you just gonna sit there and make fun of me?”

“I’m not making fun of you,” Franco said, turning on his front and burying his head in the pillow. “I like your long hair. You look very handsome.”

“Don’t lie to me.”

“I’m not lying. Come over here and I’ll run my hands through your hair.”

Isco strolled over and climbed back into bed, draping himself over Franco and placing his head in the little crater in the middle of Franco’s back. He always managed to find little spaces in Franco to lie in. He always fit into Franco just like they were two pieces of the same puzzle.

“Can’t stroke your hair if you’re lying on me,” Franco said anyway, smiling.

“Maybe I should tie my hair into a bun. A man-bun.”

“No,” Franco said. “That’s so ugly.”

“It’s not.”

“If you have a man-bun I’m breaking up with you.”

“It’ll look nicer than what it looks like now.”

“No.”

“Franco.”

“No.”

Isco sighed, which made Franco giggle because it meant he’d won.

“Help me cut my hair,” Isco said, nuzzling his nose into Franco’s back through his shirt. It was warm.

“Now?” Franco asked. “With what?”

“I brought some trimming scissors.”

“You brought –” Franco burst into laughter. “You brought scissors? For your hair? _On holiday?_ ”

“It came in a set,” Isco whined. “Help me. You’re the only person I trust.”

“Okay, okay,” Franco chuckled. “Get off me.”

Isco happily climbed off and dragged Franco to the bathroom. He took the scissors from his bathroom set and handed them to Franco, then sat on the closed toilet with the proudest, most excited smile Franco had ever seen.

“Don’t yell at me if it turns out weird,” Franco warned.

“It’s just a lil trim,” Isco murmured. “And I’ll still look handsome no matter what.”

Franco rolled his eyes. He draped a towel over Isco’s shoulders before starting to snip at a few overgrown stray hairs. “How short you want it?”

“However short you like.”

“Hmm,” Franco said. He tried moving behind Isco but was blocked by the toilet. “I can’t see the back. Turn around.”

“But then I won’t be able to see myself in the mirror.”

“What do you need to see yourself in the mirror for?”

“Why don’t you just sit on my lap?”

Franco stopped snipping to stare at him. “How would that work? You still won’t be able to see the mirror.”

“I can look below your armpit,” Isco said innocently. “C’mon.”

Franco sighed. He didn’t know what he would ever do with this little vain piece of shit. He took a few steps forward so he was straddling Isco’s thighs, then half-sat down on them. He could see the top of Isco’s head and the back. He started to trim Isco’s hair, starting from the longest strands, concentrating so the hair would fall on Isco’s towel and not all over the floor. He trimmed the top and the back so the strands weren’t long enough to form curls, which was what Isco seemed to be making a fuss about. He heard Isco give a little giggle and rest his palms on Franco’s thighs like he wanted to give Franco some support.

Franco peeked down at him and saw him peering upwards, his beautiful brown eyes softening when they met Franco’s before turning up with a smile. He glanced at the mirror, then returned his gaze to Franco. “Looks good.”

“Yeah?” Franco smiled.

“Yeah. Do the front.”

Franco sat down tenderly on Isco’s lap and started on the front of Isco’s hair. He didn’t exactly know what to do with all of it so he just snipped slowly until it looked like a decent length. Isco didn’t really fidget much like Franco had expected; he just sat there obediently, fingers drumming soothingly on Franco’s thighs, peering under Franco’s arm at the mirror.

They were interrupted by Paulo and Alvaro, who, as they did every morning, barged into Isco and Franco’s room looking for them. Well, it was more of Alvaro who did the barging. Paulo just ran after him but failed to stop him like the tiny loser he was.

Anyway, Alvaro pushed the half-open bathroom door and saw Franco and Isco playing hairdresser, and Franco wasn’t looking but he could _feel_ the horror on Alvaro’s face as he thought he’d caught Isco and Franco having sex _again_ and he pulled the door shut so it slammed loudly and Franco nearly gave Isco a lopsided fringe.

“Oh, no,” he heard Alvaro whisper. Or, attempt to whisper. “I think they’re doing it again.”

“Alvi, I saw their clothes on.”

“Well, maybe they’re doing it with their clothes on.”

Isco snickered loudly. “Come in, you losers.”

“You’re not having sex?” Alvaro called through the door.

“No, Franco’s cutting my hair.”

“Oh,” Alvaro said, sounding a mixture of relieved and curious. He slowly opened the door again and just stood there staring at Isco and Franco. Franco held the scissors above Isco’s head and stared back at him. “Wait, what did you say?”

Paulo burst into laughter from beside him. “Quick, take a photo.”

Franco rolled his eyes, this time at them. He turned his attention back to Isco’s hair. He was so close to making this his masterpiece.

“There,” Franco said when he was done, getting off Isco and pulling Isco towards the mirror. He wrapped all the hair inside the towel and threw it in the wastebasket. “All done.”

“I look pretty,” Isco beamed.

“You’ve always looked pretty,” Franco told him.

“I looked ugly just now.”

“No you didn’t.”

Isco just turned and smiled proudly at Franco. Franco was rather proud of his work, if he had to say so himself. Isco’s fringe was shorter and hung nicely over his forehead instead of being flopped over to the back. The hair at the back was short enough to be spiky but long enough to be fluffy. The curls that had been a result of overgrowth had disappeared. Isco looked fresh and clean.

“You are the most talented man I’ve ever met,” Isco said, wrapping his arms around Franco’s waist.

“You still gotta go for a haircut when we’re back.”

“I look nice. Maybe next time.”

“C’mon, let’s give you a wash.”

So Franco washed Isco like a puppy as Paulo and Alvaro, the _biggest nosies in the world_ , stood at the door and watched.

“Why don’t you guys just go down for breakfast?” Franco asked them as Isco purposefully splattered water all over the front of Franco’s shirt. “Hey!”

“This is very interesting,” Paulo informed him.

“If you weren’t a footballer, would you be a hairdresser?” Alvaro asked.

“Oh my God, just shut up,” Franco said.

“He would,” Paulo answered Alvaro for him. Then the both of them headed outside and sat on the bed gossiping instead of going downstairs.

Franco showered as Isco groomed himself like a little – poodle, or something. They were led downstairs by Paulo and Alvaro, who quickly got their food and saved a table for all of them.

“Hey,” Isco said, sauntering over with his heaped plate to where Franco was next to the salad. “They don’t have that thing anymore? They had it yesterday.”

“What thing?” Franco asked, amused.

“The pie thingy,” Isco made a gesture with his fork-and-knife-wielding hand. “You know, the deep dish...pie thing.”

“What?”

Isco didn’t bother explaining further. He stopped a passing waiter and asked, “Hey, did you run out of pies?”

The waiter gestured at the desserts at the end of the table, but Isco shook his head.

“No, the one that has eggs and stuff. The, you know, I don’t really know how to call it. The – oh, the quickie! I want a quickie.”

Franco’s jaw dropped in fucking _horror_. “What’s a _quickie_?” he whispered frantically. “That’s not something you eat at a buffet.”

“The pie thing!”

“It’s a _quiche_. Alarcon. It’s pronounced _quiche_.”

“There’s no difference!” Isco retorted. He turned to the waiter, who was trying _desperately_ to hold his laughter, again. “Can I have a quickie?”

“Alarcon!”

“Sure, they’ll be out in a minute,” the waiter said, and then swivelled on his heel and left. Franco could _swear_ he heard him giggling.

“See?” Isco said proudly. “He gets it.”

“No he does not.”

“Does, too,” Isco said, picking a cherry tomato from Franco’s plate and munching on it. Franco ignored him. He continued scooping his salad and took his time to examine the available salad dressings as Isco hovered around him.

“Here,” the waiter suddenly appeared behind them again, with a tray of quiches and a plate with a single quiche on it for Isco. “Sir, here’s your, um...here’s what you wanted.”

“My quickie!” Isco exclaimed delightedly as he took the plate, and _God_ , Franco just wanted to sink into a hole and disappear forever. “Thank you!”

Franco stormed to where Paulo and Alvaro were sitting. He felt his face burning and he knew he must've looked like that cherry tomato Isco had pinched. Sure felt like he’d been chewed up by Isco, too.

“What's wrong?” Paulo asked as Franco planted his butt down hard next to him. There was a hint of amusement in his voice, like Franco and Isco had suddenly become the sources of entertainment, instead of the other way around.

Franco gestured animatedly at Isco, who was sitting down happily with his quiche. “He told the waiter he wanted a quickie.”

Alvaro couldn't keep his snort in. Paulo asked, “Well, what did he want?”

“A quiche!”

Alvaro burst into loud laughter, but Franco glared at him and he stopped, instead snickering softly. “He wanted a quiche,” he said softly, almost in tears.

“Who the fuck tells waiters they want quickies?” Franco asked.

“A quickie,” Alvaro said, then burst into laughter again, leading Paulo to do the same. “Okay, okay, okay, sorry.”

Franco glared at them until they calmed down, and then at Isco, but he was so busy digging into his food that he didn't notice. He had this big childish smile on his face like he was really enjoying himself, which, well. Was all Franco wanted. Didn't matter how embarrassing.

He soon caught on that Franco was staring at him, so he scooped a mouthful of quiche on his fork and held it at Franco’s mouth. “Want some of my quickie?” he asked, so adorably and innocently Franco forgave him immediately.

And well, it wasn't exactly the type of quickie Franco was usually after. But he opened his mouth and took the mouthful, anyway, because Isco looked so eager and Franco could never reject a face like that.

“It’s not bad,” Franco commented.

Isco grinned at him, but then pushed his plate further from Franco when Franco tried to steal another bite with his own fork. “Get your own quickie.”

Franco didn't want to relive the ordeal they'd just gone through with the same waiter, so he bullied Alvaro into doing it.

Alvaro came back with three quiches excitedly telling them about how he said ‘quickie’ to the waiter again and Franco regretted his decision immediately. He was so fucking glad it was already their last morning. He didn't think he could face any of the hotel’s staff ever again.

Their last day was pretty mild. They drove around a little and then visited the Statue of Liberty. Liberty Island was windy and spacious and chock full of tourists. Paulo and Alvaro stalked a walking tour in a bid to get nearer to the statue. Isco and Franco made one round and then found a place to sit next to the water.

“You okay?” Franco asked as he sat next to Isco. Isco was chugging from a bottle of water. He looked a little tired.

“Yeah,” Isco smiled. He offered the bottle to Franco, who took it. He ran his hand through his hair. “Do I look pretty?”

Franco laughed. “Mmhmm. You do.”

“My hair still long enough for you to pull?”

“Definitely,” Franco whispered. He slid his fingers into Isco’s hair and tugged Isco closer for a kiss. “See?” he smiled.

Isco smiled back. He kissed Franco again, softly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Isco pulled away and held Franco’s hand. He gave it a soft squeeze. “I love this place.”

“Yeah?” Franco smiled.

“I don't wanna go home,” Isco said softly, looking down at his lap. “I mean, I miss Junior and I miss football. But I just. Yeah. I don't wanna go home. I wanna stay here, with you, forever.”

Franco let go of Isco’s hand and wrapped his arms around Isco instead, pulling him in for a warm hug. “You say that every summer,” he whispered, kissing Isco’s freshly-trimmed hair.

“You're what makes summer so great.”

“I'm not.”

“You are,” Isco whispered. “And I don't want it to end. Last year I didn't want it to end, too, because I thought we would be no more. And this year –”

“You think we'll be no more after this summer, too?”

“No,” Isco said, swallowing. “I just. Wanna be with you every day. And I think that this time, it's gonna be a million times more difficult than last year. Going back home is going to be a million times more difficult.”

Franco sighed. He knew that. He knew how difficult it was going to be waking up without Isco when he was back in Seville. The thought of it nearly brought him to tears. “I know,” he whispered.

“Sometimes I think of, like, fast-forwarding our life, you know? Like, maybe we’re in our thirties and we live together and I can wake up to you every morning. Sometimes I think that...I think of how close I am to throwing everything away just to have that. But then I also think of how selfish it makes me, and. Yeah. Franco, I just...I can't wait for our lives to start.”

Franco smiled. “Me neither.”

“Am I thinking too far ahead? I just. Sorry.”

“No, hey,” Franco poked him on the nose. “It’s okay. Tell me everything.”

“I just want to spend the rest of my life with you,” Isco whispered, so softly Franco barely heard him. “And I'm so sure of that, it scares me. And I don't want it to scare you, because you – I don't want you to be scared. And you never say anything about it and I don't – sometimes I don't know where I should stop.”

“Never,” Franco said. “Never stop.”

Isco tilted his head upwards and smiled at Franco and it was the most beautiful thing Franco had ever seen. “Yeah?”

And Franco knew in that very moment that he would throw his entire life away for Isco, too. He would do _anything_ for Isco. Franco had never been as sure of anything as he was of that.

“Yeah,” he whispered. He pressed his lips on Isco’s, letting them linger for a while. “We still have Franco Junior and Francesca to think about.”

The biggest, _softest_ smile appeared on Isco’s face. He keened upwards to kiss Franco again. “I love you,” he murmured. “Franco Vazquez, I love you so much I just might explode.”

“I love you, too,” Franco said. “Please don't explode. It sounds gross.”

Isco burst into laughter. He leaned on Franco’s shoulder and checked his phone, which made Franco realised they'd been enjoying themselves so much that day that they hadn't even looked at their phones once.

“Look, Alvarito tagged us in his story,” Isco said before Franco could unlock his phone. He showed Franco a photo of them in the bathroom that morning, Franco straddling Isco’s lap as he gave Isco his haircut. There were a few rows of thinking emojis running along the bottom half of the screen.

“That's how we looked?” Franco asked. “That's weird.”

Isco giggled. “Yeah.”

Then he decided to take a video for his story and insisted that Franco be in it. Franco obliged, smiling when Isco pointed his phone at him. “So handsome,” Isco cooed, before making some loud kissy noises.

“If I'm blushing on that video, you can't post it,” Franco said.

He was blushing. Isco posted it anyway.

Paulo and Alvaro returned just in time to catch the last ferry back – fortunately, for if not Franco would've just left the two idiots on Liberty Island. On the way back they were met by a magnificent sunset behind the Manhattan skyline, bathing them all in bright orange. Isco was wearing his yellow ‘I ♥ NY’ shirt and in the striking orange dusk, he looked like Franco’s big, bright, smiling sun.

“Do I look good bathed in orange, too?” Franco asked.

Isco laughed softly. He gave Franco’s head a few pats and rested his head on Franco’s shoulder. “Mmhmm.”

Then they caught Paulo and Alvaro being paparazzi again so they returned the favour by taking ‘candid’ photos of them that they could post on Instagram.

They drove to Brooklyn for a quiet dinner in a French restaurant. Everyone was silent throughout, making it a rather anticlimactic end to their vacation together.

“So,” Paulo cleared his throat as the waiter cleared their plates. “Thanks. For this summer.”

Isco smiled widely at him. Franco felt like Isco had always had a special kind of affection towards Paulo. Not the romantic or sexual kind, per se, but. Just a kind of overwhelming friendly affection. Franco wasn't surprised. Isco had such a big heart and Paulo was someone everyone loved to care about. It was like they were made for each other.

“We had the greatest time,” Alvaro added softly. “The first good summer we’ve both had together.”

Franco smiled. He knew he'd do _anything_ for these two idiots. He’d watched them grow and he would do anything to make sure they continued to do so. “Yeah, us too.”

“I hope we, um,” Alvaro shrugged. “Maybe get to do this again sometime.”

“‘Course,” Isco said.

“Tell them that other thing,” Paulo whispered, nudging Alvaro in the side.

Isco glanced worriedly at Franco. Franco returned it. He didn't think anything would be able to spoil their perfect summer; then again, he never knew with Paulo and Alvaro.

After a short pause Alvaro said, “I'm moving to Chelsea.”

After another short pause Isco squeaked, “What?”

“They, uh. I got the call in the morning. The offer came a while ago but we’ve just finalised the details. Paulo and I will...uh, we’ll go to Madrid with you guys, then we’ll fly to London.”

“Are you...” Franco gestured at the both of them. “You two okay with that?”

Paulo and Alvaro looked at each other, their gazes lingering for a while. Then Paulo said, “Yeah.”

“That’s good, then,” Isco said softly. “I’ll miss you.”

Alvaro smiled. “Me, too.”

There was this really long, really awkward silence. They paid for their meal and got into their van, sitting there quietly for a while with Isco and Franco in the front and Paulo and Alvaro in the back.

“Home?” Franco asked.

He saw Paulo and Alvaro nod in the rearview mirror.

So for the last time that summer, Franco drove all of them back to their Times Square hotel.

“Why are things suddenly so awkward?” Isco asked, wiping his hair dry as he finished his shower. He draped his towel over the armchair next to Franco’s before sitting on it, like he was afraid Franco would yell at him for being dirty.

Franco shrugged. “Maybe everyone just doesn’t want to go home.”

“Hmm,” Isco said thoughtfully. “I’ll go over and say good night.”

He slid open the connecting door and disappeared quietly into the neighbouring room. Franco left him to it and went to take his shower.

When he came back out, Isco was lying in bed on his side in what he must’ve thought was some kind of sexy pose. He grinned at Franco as Franco crawled in next to him.

“What?” Franco asked, amused.

“It’s our last day,” Isco remarked.

“Yeah.”

“Remember our last day in Miami?”

Franco burst into laughter. “Yeah?” he asked, reaching over and poking Isco in the ribs. He continued poking him as he laughed. “Why do you ask? Huh? Were you doing something naughty in their room?”

“Stop it,” Isco giggled, trying to grab Franco’s wrists to stop him but not succeeding, and instead curling up into a ball as he wrestled with Franco. “I wasn’t!”

“Well, you were thinking of doing something naughty, weren’t you?”

“I wasn’t!” Isco squealed again, trying his utmost to fight Franco back.

Franco eventually lost the tickle fight – well, Isco would say Franco lost, but in fact Franco knew he had only let Isco win on purpose. He ended up with Isco on top of him, straddling his waist, sitting on him proudly like he was claiming his territory.

“You minx,” Franco said, panting.

Isco grinned down at him, palms warm on Franco’s chest, right where his heart was. “You love me.”

And Franco did, so he couldn’t argue.

He smiled at Isco and Isco just. Just gazed at him, not so much a hot and heavy gaze but. But more of a gentle, loving gaze, like he was just marvelling at Franco. His eyes danced with the flashing billboards outside their window, the left side of his face bathed with neon lights. Purple, blue, green. Purple, blue, green.

“You didn’t close the curtains again,” Franco whispered.

Isco gave this really smug shrug. Then he stared at Franco for a while longer, and he said, “You look beautiful.”

And Franco. Franco suddenly felt like he couldn’t breathe. Not just because Isco was sitting on him and his tiny palms were squeezing Franco’s heart, but because. Because Franco was so _fucking in love_ it crippled him.

“I love you,” he mouthed.

Isco bent over and pressed his lips softly against Franco’s, working them open so he could let his tongue mingle with Franco’s. Franco let his hands wander up Isco’s thighs to his waist, under his shirt, then back down to his thighs again, squeezing them and feeling them tighten around Franco’s waist.

Isco’s face was flushed when he sat back upright again, tinted pink under the calm white neon lights that had settled outside. His lips were a little puffy as they always were after making out with Franco. They turned upwards into a tiny, beautiful smile.

And Franco had never. Never felt such strong emotions ever in his life. He had never felt such a strong magnetic pull towards anyone he had ever known. It pulled hard at Franco’s heart and it hurt, it hurt unlike anything Franco had ever experienced. It was a soreness at Franco’s very core, a feeling Franco couldn't shake off. A feeling he _didn't want to_ shake off.

One of Isco’s hands landed on Franco's cheek. He raised his eyebrows as if to ask what Franco was thinking about.

“Make love to me,” Franco whispered.

Isco’s smile grew. He placed his other hand on Franco’s cheek and squeezed Franco’s face in agreement.

It turned out to be one of the most magical nights Franco had ever experienced.

It wasn't like the rough, desperate sex that was so characteristic of all Isco and Franco’s encounters. It was slow and gentle, like they were both afraid that this night would end too quickly.

It was soft kisses, hands familiar yet slow, confident yet gentle. It was the whistle of clothes against skin as they were lost in a tornado of their inhibitions. It was the soft rustle of sheets and the muted murmur of their bodies moving together. It was whispered questions and whispered answers, whispered little giggles and warm gazes that filled the rest. It was their naked bodies painted in neon, the city lights dancing over them, watching over them, reflecting what it was exactly that Franco felt when he looked at Isco.

It was their sweat, stained on each other’s bodies as they glided together like a well-oiled machine. It was the marks they made on each other’s skin, shapeless and incongruent, but to the both of them reading miles and miles of words they could never say verbally. It was the languid kisses in between, sloppy and weak but knowing that they had long overcome the need to impress each other. It was their hands, fingers intertwined, squeezing so hard the blood had nowhere to flow. It was the gasps and shudders that punctured the warm air, the gentle mumble of pleasure that escaped them every once in a while. It was the sharp brush of their beards against each other as their lips found accompaniment, the tingling on Franco’s cheek and neck as Isco keened against him.

It was the _look_ on Isco’s face after he’d come, collapsing on top of Franco with his face pushed into Franco’s neck, lips still murmuring softly – exhausted and yet, when Franco tilted it upwards for a look and a kiss, was decorated with the most childlike smile.

“I love you,” Franco said again.

Isco grinned. “I love you too, Franny.”

He continued nuzzling Franco’s neck, making Franco just. Just not helping but smile big like some kind of dork. He traced a line of kisses around Isco’s ear. “So, do you prefer this last night or the Miami last night?”

“This last night,” Isco murmured sleepily, though without any hesitation.

Franco smiled. He gently pushed Isco off him and turned him towards the window before latching himself onto him, resting his cheek on Isco’s so Isco’s face was all squished into the pillow. The neon lights of Times Square had settled into a swathe of white with a tint of pink.

“It’s beautiful,” Isco whispered.

Franco smiled. He tugged the sheets over them. Isco whined until Franco’s arms were back around him again, then he pulled them more tightly around himself. “How does anyone sleep with these bright lights in their faces?” Franco asked.

“By closing their eyes,” Isco stated matter-of-factly. Then he did just that and fell asleep in a matter of seconds.

Franco didn’t go to sleep. He didn’t even close his eyes.

He was suddenly deathly afraid that if he took them off Isco, Isco would disappear.

So he just lay there, curled tightly around his Isco, heart beating like a drum. He just lay there and he thought of all the years he wanted to spend with Isco, and he watched the city fall asleep as he eventually drifted off himself.

\------

Alvaro was convinced that Isco and Franco were fucking made for each other when they got up together at half past six the next morning to make a massive din while packing.

They flitted in and out of Paulo and Alvaro’s room, depositing some of the bags of stuff they'd left in the van. They whispered most of the time, but for a period they stood at the connecting door just fucking flirting with each other and Alvaro had to throw a pillow at them before they left.

When Paulo and Alvaro finally dragged their asses out of bed, they decided they'd try to lure Franco into helping them pack by dragging their messy luggage and accompanying shopping bags over to the other room.

And they saw Isco and Franco sitting on the ground in their track pants and their _matching shirts_ , smiling as they packed Isco’s luggage, more calmly than when they'd been caught the previous time in Miami. Their white t-shirts had eyes all over them; Isco’s had round pairs of half-open eyes arranged on lines and Franco’s had a single eye that looked like the eye emoji just splattered all over.

“Why do you guys have matching shirts?” Paulo asked before the words could come out of Alvaro’s mouth.

“We’re not wearing match – oh,” Isco said, examining first Franco, then himself. “I didn't even notice that.”

Franco burst into laughter. “Me neither.”

“These are even our legit matching shirts,” Isco said.

Oh my God, they had legit matching shirts.

“This is cute,” Franco said to Isco. “I love our new matching shirts.”

“Me too,” Isco said.

And then they started making out and _God, what the fuck,_ so Alvaro just stormed over and tapped Franco’s shoulder so he pulled away reluctantly.

“Help us pack,” he asked politely.

Paulo stopped next to him. “Pleeeeeeeeeeease?” he cooed.

Isco answered for Franco, eventually, while Franco was too busy glaring at them. “Okay but me first,” he said.

“I didn’t say yes,” Franco whined.

“Don’t worry, I said yes for you.”

“Jesus,” Franco muttered. He put the stack of Isco’s rolled clothes into Isco’s luggage. “I’m not your maid.”

“You’d look good in a maid outfit, though,” Isco noted.

Paulo started laughing and Franco glared at him and Alvaro couldn’t help but quickly shuffle Paulo protectively towards the bed. They leaned into each other and watched Franco finish packing Isco’s suitcase, and then move on to Alvaro’s.

“Alvi,” Paulo said softly.

“Yeah?”

“Will you miss me when you’re in London?”

“Of course,” Alvaro whispered, knowing Paulo only ever needed the reassurance. And no matter how many times he needed to hear it, Alvaro would say it for him. “Will you come visit me?”

Paulo smiled. “Yeah.”

“Will you pick out a house with me again?”

Paulo’s smile turned into a grin. “Yeah!”

They sat and watched Franco make everything neat and tidy. All three of them, including Isco, who’d just given up and was sitting there watching Franco lovingly.

They made it just in time for checkout and then to the airport, taking the scenic route through Brooklyn and stopping _again_ because Isco and Franco wanted nice photographs. In their stupid matching eye shirts. They strolled around the airport for a long time before deciding to have lunch at a steakhouse.

Isco finished his food first, as per usual, so he sat there just watching everyone and eyeing Franco’s food, since Franco was taking such a fucking long time. He reached over to nip Franco’s salad, but retreated when Franco hit him in the hand. Then he just sat there looking forlorn so Franco couldn’t help but sigh and give in and feed him a mouthful of vegetables.

“So London’s a nice place,” Franco said, swirling his remaining strands of spaghetti on his fork, trying not to make eye contact with Alvaro.

Paulo and Isco stared at him in surprise. Surprise that he actually tried to start a conversation with _Alvaro_ out of everyone at the table.

“Yeah,” Alvaro croaked. “It’s a nice city.”

Franco smiled at the specks of garlic on his plate. “Cool.”

“I’m gonna pick a house with him,” Paulo chimed in excitedly.

Then he and Isco started off on some nerdy interior design ramble so Alvaro just sat there helplessly, mirroring Franco from diagonally across. Franco was smiling a tiny smile to himself while sipping on his juice. He looked pretty proud of himself. Proud of what happened during this vacation, maybe. He looked proud of his three little parasites.

They got on the plane at five in the evening. Paulo and Alvaro got seats in front of Isco and Franco, and Paulo let Alvaro take the window.

Alvaro was counting the runway lights when Paulo suddenly lifted the armrest and leaned into him.

“Hi,” he whispered, eyes bright.

“Hi,” Alvaro smiled.

“I’m so happy you’re moving to London and getting more chances to play.”

“Me, too,” Alvaro kissed him on the head.

“I’m gonna be so proud of you.”

Alvaro hugged Paulo more tightly against him. “ _I’m_ going to be so proud of _you_.”

“I can’t wait till we’re old and live together.”

“Me neither.”

A long silence as the plane rumbled down the runway and took off into the evening sky. Alvaro was distracted by the scenes outside until he noticed Paulo had gotten up a little and was peeking in between the seats at Isco and Franco. Alvaro joined him.

Isco had his shoes off and his legs curled up in the seat; Franco was facing him and gesturing animatedly as they spoke in hushed tones. They looked completely engrossed. Which was lucky for Paulo and Alvaro.

“It’s strange, don't you think?” Paulo mused.

“What's strange?”

“Franco,” Paulo made a mild gesture towards Franco. “He never takes his eyes off the window.”

Silence as they pondered about that. A few minutes later Isco started curling into Franco’s arms instead, going quiet as he drifted asleep. Franco stared out the window for a while before kissing Isco on the head, pressing his cheek on Isco’s hair, and going to sleep himself.

“And he never sleeps on airplanes!” Paulo whispered frantically. “That's his number one rule.”

Alvaro laughed. “Guess it’s all Isco.”

“I hope they get married. They’ll have the greatest, happiest marriage.”

Alvaro smiled. He continued watching Isco and Franco for a while, then turned to his side to find himself looking straight into Paulo’s emerald eyes.

“What?” Alvaro whispered, his heart rate suddenly quickening from being so _close_ to Paulo, even though it was far from the first time.

“You think we'll have the greatest, happiest marriage too?”

Alvaro smiled. He moved closer and pecked Paulo on the lips to soothe him. “Without a doubt.”

Paulo beamed at him, then leaned over and gave him a lingering kiss. Then he took out his phone and held it high over the both of them so he could capture them, Isco and Franco, and their dorky matching shirts in a single selfie.

He posted it on his Instagram story with a row of multicolored hearts below Alvaro’s face and the word ‘weirdos’ below Isco and Franco’s sleeping figures.

Alvaro fell asleep a couple of hours into the flight, soaring high above the ocean that once separated him from his Paulo – but now only seeming so trivial, only being the bridge between their amazing vacation and home sweet home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'd like to hear from you guys! [Please help me to finish this survey](https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSewvyGMzSNXLMtjCOxh_D_IFn2rW4CRWiCSDwJss2RI2m07Pw/viewform?usp=sf_link) about this series, it will really really help me in planning the final part, part 4, and also to let me know what you guys really think. Don't hesitate to tell me the truth! Thank you all so so much in advance.
> 
> So sorry for the late update (again). I have no words to explain myself besides the same old reasons. I do hope you will enjoy this chapter though! :)
> 
> [PS: LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOKKKKKKKK at their matching eye shirts!!!!!!!](http://bernerdeschi.tumblr.com/post/162447333616/firminhoes-mitchellweiser-thinkingoverloves)


	11. So Long As Men Can Breathe, Or Eyes Can See; So Long Lives This, And This Gives Life To Thee

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone!
> 
> This will be the final real chapter - the next one will be the epilogue. I will try to post the epilogue with the beginning of part 4 :)
> 
> If you guys haven't seen or done so, please help me fill in [a short survey about this series!](https://docs.google.com/forms/d/e/1FAIpQLSewvyGMzSNXLMtjCOxh_D_IFn2rW4CRWiCSDwJss2RI2m07Pw/viewform?usp=sf_link) I believe it will help me in writing part 4. To those who've already done it, thank you so much! I am aware that the way the questions were set up caused some misunderstanding for some of you, but no worries, I've gone through the responses individually and sorted most of them out. Do feel free to re-do it if you feel like you did it wrong the first time though! Just let me know in the name section.
> 
> Again thank you all for being so patient and supportive. I definitely would not have been able to continue or finish this without all of you. Thank you so much and please enjoy!

Franco really wanted to spend a few days in Madrid with Isco before he had to fly with Sevilla to Japan, but there was barely any time. All they’d managed to do was hang out at the train station waiting for Franco’s train to Seville while Paulo and Alvaro headed to Alvaro’s house to pack for their trip to London.

“So where are you going for camp?” Franco asked. For all the time they’d spent together during the summer, Franco had never actually bothered to find out.

“The US,” Isco said, unbothered, flipping through a random magazine he’d bought at the newspaper stand.

“What?” Franco asked. “Didn’t we just come back from there?”

“Yeah.”

“Which parts?”

“I don’t know, uh, California? And some parts in the east. Chicago...oh, yeah, Miami.”

“Miami?!” Franco exclaimed. “Then why did you wanna go there for summer?”

Isco put his magazine down slowly like he was shocked Franco was suddenly yelling at him. “‘Cause it’s fun!”

“But you’re going there again.”

“So?”

“Won’t you find it boring?”

“No,” Isco said, sitting back in his seat, propping his feet up on his luggage, and opening his magazine again. “I’ll just spend all day in the hotel talking to you.”

“I mean, we could’ve gone somewhere else.”

“Franco,” Isco sighed. He leaned into Franco’s shoulder despite everything. “I just wanted to experience Miami with you.”

Franco smiled. He kissed the top of Isco’s big bean head. “Okay.”

“Are you mad at me?”

“Why would I be?”

“I don’t know.”

“I just thought maybe it’s a little redundant.”

“It’s different. Going on tour with the team is just...I don’t know. I don’t get to do a lot of things. And we got to do so many things together in Miami. And all the other places.”

“Yeah,” Franco whispered. “Yeah, I get it.”

“Are you happy we went to Miami together?”

“Mmhmm.”

“I love you. I’m so happy we had such a good time.”

“I love you, too,” Franco pressed his lips on Isco’s temple, then his cheek. “I’m gonna miss you so much.”

“Me, too,” Isco smiled up at him. “Franny, you think we’ll be okay?”

Franco couldn’t help but laugh softly. He loved it when Isco called him Franny. Even though it also kinda made his hairs stand on end. “Of course we will. We’ve been all this while.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Franco booped him on the nose. “You’re so dumb, you know that, Alarcon?”

“Why?” Isco asked sadly.

“You’re flying across the ocean twice. You could’ve just stayed there. Or we could’ve gone somewhere else nearer, like I don’t know, somewhere warm and beachy like Morocco. Or South Africa. Or the Maldives.”

“Well, I enjoyed myself,” Isco pouted. “And next time, we’re going to both the Maldives and the Bahamas.”

“Just choose one. One at a time.”

“No.”

Franco sighed in defeat. A few minutes later the announcement for his train came on, so he gently shook Isco off and stood up.

“Remember to get that to him,” Franco said, pointing to the things he’d collected over their trip for Junior. There were so many things the only way they could transport them was in one of Franco’s duffel bags.

“You sure you can’t stay to see Junior?” Isco asked.

“I wish I could.”

“I’ll take him to see you when we’re both back.”

“Okay,” Franco smiled. He gently ruffled Isco’s hair. “Remember to go get your haircut.”

“No,” Isco said nonchalantly. He tiptoed a little and kissed Franco on the lips. “Bye-bye. I love you, Franny.”

“I love you too. Call me.”

“I’ll call you the moment you step on that train.”

Franco laughed. “Okay, if you want.”

Isco grinned at him. He continued grinning as he walked Franco to the platform and watched Franco board the train. He walked along the length of the train as Franco looked for his seat. Then he stood there beaming at Franco for a while longer before taking out his phone and calling Franco.

Franco smiled when he felt the vibration in his pocket. He pressed the call button and put his phone to his ear.

“Miss you already,” Isco said.

“Me, too.”

“Gross.”

“You're gross.”

They just stood there silently over the phone, staring at each other through the train window, until the train started moving. Then Isco puckered his lips and made loud kissy noises at Franco over the phone and Franco just wanted to crawl into his seat cushion to avoid all the glances he was getting all around.

But instead he just pressed himself up on the window and waved at Isco as the train pulled out of the station, then burrowed into his seat wishing he could physically erase the blush from his face.

And for the first time Franco could ever remember, he was reluctant to get back to playing football.

\------

London was barely anything short of the mess, noise, and traffic that New York City was.

Alvaro had been there a couple times, but Paulo hadn’t. So he spent the entire time just looking up and around like a tiny little bird.

“You like it here?” Alvaro asked.

Paulo peered curiously at him. “Do you?”

“I asked you first.”

“It’s pretty cool,” Paulo said.

“It’s kinda like New York, don’t you think?”

Paulo stopped walking and pulled Alvaro to the edge of the curb. “So you don’t like it here?” he asked.

Alvaro shrugged. “It’ll be okay, I think. Maybe if you come visit me more often.”

Paulo smiled. “That’s just an excuse.”

“It is,” Alvaro admitted, giggling. “Oh, Paulo. I think I’ll be okay here.”

“I think so, too,” Paulo said softly. “Alvi. You’re always gonna be okay.”

Alvaro smiled. He loved his tiny supportive boyfriend. Paulo was just. He was so kind and there was no way he would ever give Alvaro any less than a hundred percent of his support. No matter what Alvaro wanted to do or what he _had_ to do. Paulo was always there. And Alvaro was so, so grateful for that. He knew for a fact that the _very day_ they could live in the same city again, he would marry Paulo.

“Alvi,” Paulo whispered, which made Alvaro realise he’d been silent for a while.

“Yeah?” Alvaro asked, sweeping Paulo’s slightly sweaty hair off his forehead.

“I am so proud of you.”

Alvaro felt his heart give a little flutter. “I haven’t even done anything yet,” he said.

“I still am,” Paulo said earnestly. “I’m so proud of the person you’ve become and I’m so proud that I get to stand here on this London street with you today.”

Alvaro wrapped Paulo up in a hug and felt Paulo just melt into him and he realised once again that it was his favourite feeling in the universe. “What if I’m not ready for it?” he asked.

“You will be,” Paulo said softly into Alvaro’s shirt. “You think you’re not but you are, Alvaro, I know you are, you just have to search for it inside you. You always say you’re not ready but you do so well, Alvi, you have to believe in yourself just like I believe in you.”

“You think?” Alvaro whispered.

“Yeah.”

Alvaro lifted Paulo’s head and pressed his lips softly on Paulo’s, smiling when they upturned against his. And Paulo whispered that he loved Alvaro and in that moment Alvaro was so suddenly and overwhelmingly struck with the reality that he would have zero clue of how to live his life if Paulo wasn’t around, and he realised how grateful he was that he could kiss these lips, these lips he kissed for the very first time more than seven entire years ago, for the rest of his life.

Their time together in London was short, unfortunately, because Paulo had his own training camp to attend to. So they walked around a little more and Alvaro listened to Paulo babble away about the sights, then they had dinner and went back to their hotel room to pick out apartments online.

They spent the entire night lying upside down in bed on their tummies, hogging the hotel’s bandwidth loading picture after picture of the apartments in London. And Alvaro knew that they wouldn’t be able to make a decision in one night – partly because of how _picky_ Paulo was about Alvaro having the perfect place to stay – but he still enjoyed every single minute of it, hanging out with his Paulo, talking nonsense, and trading occasional butterflies-inducing kisses.

And reality hit Alvaro once again – after eight whole years, they were back where they started. Upside down on a bed, rectangular screen lighting up their faces, wishing their last hours together before life separated them for an undetermined period of time would last forever.

He jolted a little when Paulo nudged him in the arm, asking, “What is it?”

“Hmm?” Alvaro asked.

Paulo chuckled. “Why are you just staring at me? I’m asking you if you like these big glass windows. The apartment looks good. It has a nice view.”

Alvaro blinked at him but he’d already turned back to the laptop screen. “Yeah. I like big windows,” Alvaro said.

“You okay?” Paulo whispered. He minimised the browser window and placed his cheek on his arms, gazing concernedly at Alvaro. He waited for an answer but Alvaro just stared at him so he gave a little encouraging smile. And he looked. He looked just like the little boy Alvaro had known and loved since the very first day.

He wrapped his arms around Paulo and dragged Paulo half on top of him. He pushed his face into Paulo’s hair and sniffed and the scent of _fucking familiarity_ brought literal tears to Alvaro’s eyes.

“I just need a hug,” he whispered.

Paulo nodded. He bundled Alvaro up and just. Just rocked gently with him, like he knew Alvaro was crying but also that he was too embarrassed to admit it. He gave Alvaro gentle little kisses up his jawline, in his hair, and on his forehead. He whispered to Alvaro how much he loved him, over and over again. And Alvaro wished. Alvaro wished that he could be strong for just _once_ , he wished that he could grow the hell up and he wished that he could be the person Paulo was. But he wasn’t. And he was always going to have trouble dealing with distance. He was always going to wish for things that were impossible and he was always going to let Paulo down by making him think that Alvaro didn’t support him venturing further away. He was always going to tell Paulo things, promise Paulo things, but ending up not being able to do them.

“Paulo,” Alvaro mumbled, wanting to say all those things to Paulo. Wanting to tell Paulo. Just tell Paulo so many things.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Paulo said.

“But –”

“Shh,” Paulo whispered, hugging Alvaro more tightly. A few minutes of silence later he continued, “Alvi, I know you’re always going to feel this way. I know that. You don’t have to explain it to me, you don’t have to make excuses for yourself, and you don’t have to feel bad about it. It’s not your fault. And it’s not the fault of the people around you. It’s just the way you learned how to live. And nobody can fault you for that. I just want you to know that no distance between us will ever be too far for me. No distance has _ever_ been too far for us. And it’s not going to start. I hope that one day you’ll feel the same way. But it’s okay if you don’t. I understand and I know you’re trying to let us both live our own lives in different places and I am so proud of you for that. It will get better, Alvaro. I promise you it will get better.”

“I love you so much,” Alvaro sobbed.

Paulo smiled. He gave Alvaro a soft kiss on the lips and gently wiped Alvaro’s cheeks with his hand. “Me, too.”

“It’s just – I don’t want you to think that I want you to follow me everywhere, you know? I want you to live your life, the life you’ve known you wanted to have since you were young. I just. Just. It hits me so hard how much I love you and how much I don’t want to be apart from you. But that’s just something...something I’ll get over. Because I know nothing as small as that is going to ever come between us. Okay? I’ll be okay, Pau. We’ll be okay. I promise. I’m not that person anymore. I’m trying not to be.”

“I know,” Paulo mouthed. He pecked Alvaro on the nose. “Yeah.”

“Could you just...just hold me?”

“‘Course,” Paulo whispered.

So Paulo held him throughout the night, laptop and apartment search long forgotten. He just held Alvaro and Alvaro didn’t remember even getting a single wink of sleep because he didn’t want to miss even a fraction of a millisecond of his last night with his Paulo.

\------

So Isco decided it was a good idea to call to check in on Franco the moment he landed in the USA again.

Unfortunately, he forgot there was like, a sixteen-hour time zone difference that existed between California and Japan, so when he called Franco at lunchtime it was actually four in the morning and Franco yelled at him over the phone about waking him up.

“Sorry,” Isco whispered, like maybe it would be better if he didn’t, you know, wake Franco up even more.

“What is it?” Franco asked groggily.

“Just wanted to check in.”

Franco sighed like he was already used to this. Which Isco couldn’t really figure out was a good thing or not. “Yeah. How you doin’?”

“I'm good,” Isco said. “You? Did you have a good flight?”

“Yeah, we arrived yesterday morning.”

“The food’s good there, right?” Isco asked, recalling his trip there with his team the previous year.

“Yeah, it's not too bad,” Franco mumbled. It sounded like he had his face stuffed in his pillow.

“Um,” Isco said hesitantly. He really wanted to talk to Franco after his neverending flight but Franco sounded really tired and. “I’ll...maybe I'll hang up now so you can go to sleep. Yeah. Sorry. Good night.”

“No, hey,” he heard Franco say just as he was about to hang up. “Don't go.”

“Yeah?” Isco asked, putting his phone at his ear again.

“Talk to me,” Franco said softly. “Tell me about your flight.”

“It was cool,” Isco said. “But Sergio decided he wanted to give everyone a pep talk during the flight so I barely got any sleep.”

“He talked for the entire flight?”

“No, but then he decided everyone needed some individual time with him.”

“So what did he talk about?”

“I don't know, I wasn't listening.”

Franco laughed. “Yeah, sounds about right.”

Isco continued talking about the past week or so, when they'd been too busy to talk, and Franco continued listening. Even though by the end he fell back asleep again so it was all just ‘hmm’ and ‘oh’ from him until it faded away to his soft breathing.

Then forty minutes later his alarm blared loudly and he woke up again cursing, forgetting Isco was on the phone and laughing his butt off.

“You're still here?” Franco asked after he’d gotten his shit together.

“I like listening to you sleep.”

Franco chuckled. “I gotta shower and go for breakfast.”

“Can I stay here?”

“Yeah,” Franco said after a brief pause. “I’ll, uh, I'll put you on speaker.”

He left Isco on the bathroom counter as he showered, and just the sound of that was so soothing to Isco’s ears. Franco getting on with his daily life. Isco wished he was a fly on Franco’s wall. Not just so he could see Franco naked, but. But his heart just felt so full with Franco and he just loved to see Franco go about being himself.

Almost immediately after the shower stopped, there was a loud thudding at the door and Franco cursed again before saying he’d be right back. The door opened and there were a few loud murmurs before Franco was back, accompanied by an extra pair of footsteps.

“It’s Tucu,” he announced. “He's been extremely clingy since Mati left.”

“I've not been extremely clingy,” Joaquin retorted.

“You're right, you've always been extremely clingy,” Franco said, his voice fading as he turned the hairdryer on.

Joaquin gave a little ‘tsk’ before his voice became a lot louder as he picked up the phone and said, “Hi, Isco.”

“Hi,” Isco said. “How've you been?”

“Good, thanks.”

“Dealing with the loss of Mati,” Franco called over the hairdryer.

“I didn't _lose_ Mati,” Joaquin said. “He's in a better place.”

Isco didn't have eyes in the room but he was a hundred percent sure Franco turned to look at Joaquin with that confused but annoyed glare he usually gave Isco.

“Where is he?” Isco asked.

“In Russia,” Joaquin said. “He looks like he's having a great time.”

“Aww, does he have friends in his new team?” Isco asked.

“Yeah, plenty.”

“That's good, then.”

“Sometimes Tucu can still hear his voice,” Franco called.

Isco heard a loud slap that sounded like it was palm on skin, which was confirmed when Franco started cursing again.

He was still there with them as they went down for breakfast squabbling and Joaquin mentioned that he wouldn’t be brooding about Matias if Franco, his best friend there, wasn’t so mean to him. And from that moment on Franco started getting softer and friendlier and Isco just _couldn’t stop smiling_ because his boyfriend was such a _huge soft dork_ even though he refused to admit it.

“You’re a big softie,” Isco said when he finally got Franco to himself again.

“No I’m not,” was, of course, all Franco had to say to defend himself.

“You’re less friendly when I’m not around,” Isco noted.

“That’s ‘cause I’m less happy.”

Isco couldn’t help but smile. “Gross.”

“You’re gross. Calling me in the middle of the night.”

“I missed you.”

“Gross.”

Then everyone started leaving the room and Isco obviously hadn’t heard any announcement or whatever so he just sat there confused until Marco reappeared and started dragging him out by the arm. “Wait, I think I have to go somewhere,” he told Franco.

“You think?”

“I’m being dragged.”

Franco laughed fondly. “Okay, go.”

“Bye. I love you.”

“I love you so much, Alarcon,” Franco said, and Isco heard a loud slap from Joaquin quickly followed by a softer one from Franco right back at him.

Isco spent the rest of the day wondering how his boyfriend could make him smile all the way from the other freaking side of the world.

\------

Summer camp turned out to be super boring after all the fun they’d had the couple of weeks prior to it.

It wasn’t that Paulo didn’t miss football; it was just that he probably needed some time to recover from the highest summer of his life. He spent most of his time just texting Alvaro, but football provided nice breaks in between, he guessed.

He was relieved when both he and Alvaro were back in Europe again and Alvaro told him he’d settled for that house with the big windows Paulo had been talking about. And he didn’t say that it was because Paulo seemed to like it but Paulo knew that was the very reason he’d chosen it.

He flew to London as soon as they made it back to Turin. The moment he saw Alvaro’s stupid pretty face sitting on a bench felt like the happiest moment of his life.

He wished he could say they went straight to Alvaro’s clean new penthouse and had hot reunion sex on his sparkling new bed – but alas, for that to have happened, Alvaro had to first have a bed.

They sat down in the middle of Alvaro’s completely empty living room and just talked for a few hours. The only piece of furniture was an old chair that Alvaro’s dirty clothes had taken control of. Boxes of his things were stacked up in the corner. The walls were white and bare and Paulo could hear an echo whenever Alvaro spoke.

The wraparound window occupied an entire wall and a half. The large part of it faced the southwest, so the setting sun cast enormous diagonal slices of orange over the marble floor and over Paulo and Alvaro.

“This is some view, huh?” Paulo said softly.

Alvaro smiled. He leaned over and gently kissed Paulo on the cheek. “I’m so happy you like it.”

“Should we go for dinner?” Paulo asked.

It turned out that despite not having any furniture, Alvaro had a fridge stocked full of food.

Between them, they came up with salad and some pasta. They sat by the window and wiped every bowl clean like little hungry monsters as the city of London twinkled beneath them.

“Will you go furniture shopping with me tomorrow?” Alvaro asked.

“Yeah,” Paulo smiled. “Do you have anything in mind?”

Alvaro described the living room he wanted. The soft grey sofa and the TV mounted on the wall. The dining table with a glass top and matching transparent chairs. Photographs of his family and Paulo framing the television. A giant armchair at the window so they could sit and watch the city.

The bedroom he wanted. A king sized bed hugging the ground with its head against the bedroom window. A small work table for Paulo. Plants on the windowsill that Paulo would take care of. A small walk-in closet with one wall for Paulo and one wall for Alvaro.

“Alvi, can I ask you something?” Paulo asked.

“Yeah?”

“Did you buy this place just because you think I like it?”

A short pause from Alvaro, then, “Do you like it?”

“I do, yeah.”

Alvaro smiled. “Then good.”

“Alvi.”

“What?”

“Do you like it?”

Alvaro sighed at the view. “You like it, so whenever I wake up and see this house and this view I know you're happy and that makes me happy.”

Paulo nudged himself under Alvaro’s arm and tucked himself into Alvaro's shoulder. “But if I hadn't said anything? Would you have chosen this place?”

“I would,” Alvaro said softly. “Because I know you'd like it and that makes me happy, too.”

“I love you,” Paulo whispered.

Alvaro gave the top of Paulo’s head a kiss, then tugged on Paulo’s hair so Paulo was looking at him. “I love you, too.”

But he was gazing at Paulo with the same look he gave on each last morning of all their visits to each other in Turin and Madrid, at the airport before they flew back home. That same look of shimmering longing. The look that told Paulo he had a million things to say but no words to put them in; a million things to tell Paulo before they parted but no space to rest them and no time to conjure them up.

The look that told Paulo that Alvaro knew, Alvaro _knew_ that their lives were taking them on different paths right then but that wasn't going to make him give up on Paulo, ever. Alvaro knew that and Paulo knew that. But Alvaro needed to tell Paulo over and over again as a form of assurance to himself, the need for which having stemmed from his own doubt regarding this matter. Alvaro was a very naive person. He thought everybody needed and wanted the same things as him. And this was why he needed Paulo to know this, and know this again, and again, and again. Because that was what Alvaro needed for himself.

Alvaro was. Alvaro had one of the most quirky minds Paulo had ever encountered. And if Paulo had been even an iota less patient than he was, if he had loved Alvaro even the slightest bit less, he would not have understood Alvaro _at all._

Paulo cupped one of Alvaro’s cheeks, a rush of relief overcoming him as Alvaro closed his eyes and keened into it so Paulo didn't have to look into his sad eyes anymore.

“Show me where you sleep,” Paulo whispered.

Alvaro nodded. He took Paulo’s hand and stood up, placing their utensils in the sink before leading Paulo towards the back of the house.

The bedroom was spartan save for a single mattress lying crooked under the window and a single pillow on it.

Alvaro climbed into it and gestured for Paulo to do the same. He fluffed the pillow for Paulo and let Paulo have it even though it meant Alvaro had to sleep on his own arm.

Paulo made him share, which put their faces inches apart on the pillow, eyes almost crossed as they attempted to smile at each other.

Paulo decided he’d spend their remaining time trying to make Alvaro forget that they were going to start their brand new lives apart the next day, so he kissed Alvaro softly until the sadness in his eyes faded away and he fell asleep.

\------

The next day, Paulo and Alvaro went to look at furniture.

This time, Paulo hung back and let Alvaro choose everything on his own. He already had the house, even though he’d had absolutely no intention of it. Now, Alvaro had the furniture.

Though Paulo had to admit it was pretty exciting. He didn’t get to pick out furniture with Alvaro when Alvaro moved back to Madrid, and Alvaro’s apartment in Turin had been rented so it came furnished. Now shopping with Alvaro and listening to Alvaro ramble about the different shades of grey was...soothing. It felt just the right shade of domestic.

Alvaro certainly seemed to enjoy it. He skittered around with Paulo in tow and picked out pieces of furniture like he was picking out food at a buffet. He picked out everything in monotone except for the work table he’d promised Paulo, which was in a shade of pastel blue.

They drove their new coffee table and dresser home and barely had time to put them together before Paulo had to say, “Alvi, I have to go catch my plane.”

Alvaro ignored him at first, pretending he hadn't heard. He put all the spare screws and bolts in a little plastic box.

“Alvaro,” Paulo urged.

Alvaro sighed. “I’ll go with you,” he said reluctantly.

“It’s okay,” Paulo said. Alvaro didn't have a car yet and he’d just have to take a cab back home. “I'll go by myself.”

But Alvaro, stubborn as he had always been, changed into his jeans and went outside with Paulo as they waited for their cab. Then he climbed in with Paulo and just sat there, tightly clutching Paulo’s hand like he was trying his hardest not to cry.

Paulo gave his fingers a squeeze. “I love you, Alvaro,” he whispered.

The next wash of streetlights across Alvaro’s face revealed the tiniest smile. “I love you more,” he said.

Silence all the way to the airport. Alvaro held Paulo’s duffel – now almost empty because Alvaro had made him leave his things in London – for him as the cab drove off. He didn't say anything as they headed inside and Paulo got his boarding pass.

“So how many were there?” Paulo asked. The streetlights. Paulo knew Alvaro counted them every time.

“A hundred and twenty seven.”

Paulo smiled. “Alvi, I love you so much.”

Alvaro stopped near the entrance to departures and hugged Paulo so tightly Paulo was lifted off his feet. “Paulo,” he whispered.

“We will always have us,” Paulo murmured. “I promise. Paulo and Alvaro. It will always be this way. Always.”

“I am nothing without you.”

“So am I.”

“We’ll visit, yeah?”

“Promise,” Paulo said. He knew they'd established this thousands of times. Lived through this thousands of times over the years and over the previous season. But if Alvaro needed the reassurance then Paulo would be damned if he didn't give it to him.

Alvaro let go of him and squeezed his shoulders. “Score lots of goals for me, ‘kay?”

Paulo beamed. “You score lots of goals for me.”

Alvaro gently pressed his lips on Paulo’s forehead, then his left temple, and finally his lips. “See you, Pau.”

“See you,” Paulo whispered.

“I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” Paulo gave him a lingering kiss on the lips. “Don't ever forget that.”

Alvaro smiled but it didn't reach his eyes for reasons Paulo knew he couldn't help with. He just stood there staring at Alvaro until he was sure Alvaro wasn't going to cry, then he stepped in for a hug which eventually made Alvaro sob a little.

“You can't cry here,” Paulo whispered.

“I know,” Alvaro whispered back.

“I'm not letting you go until you stop crying.”

“Then I'm not gonna stop crying.”

“Alvi.”

“I'm kidding. You have to go live your life and I'm going to live mine, and one day we’ll get to live it in the same place again.”

“Mmhmm.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Call me when you land.”

“I will,” Paulo smiled. “Bye, Alvi.”

“Bye,” Alvaro said softly. “I love you so fucking much.”

The last thing Paulo saw as he entered departures was Alvaro’s lone figure standing at the glass window with his palms pressed up on it, wanting to be as close to Paulo as he was allowed to. The last thing he saw was Alvaro’s sad smile as he waved and blew a kiss.

Paulo managed to hold his tears in until he'd rounded the corner and Alvaro was out of sight.

\------

Things only got back to normal for Isco a few days after he’d returned from summer camp. He slept off the jet lag for a couple days as Antonio brought Junior and Bubu back to Madrid and hung around while Isco lazed his days away. Then Antonio left and Isco had to get his shit together for his son, so he did.

He awoke one morning – after successfully sleeping away most of his jet lag, no less – to Junior screaming at the top of his lungs.

He was momentarily worried before he realised Junior was screaming Franco’s name. “Vazquez! Vazquez!”

“Shhh, shhh,” Franco whispered. “Hey. Hi. You're so big now.”

“Me big?” Junior asked loudly.

“You're a big boy.”

“Vazquez! I miss you.”

“I missed you too, baby.”

Then there was some high-pitched barking and soft grumbling as Franco’s footsteps got louder and he appeared at Isco’s door.

He looked flustered and exhausted and Junior was sitting on his arm and hanging off his neck while Bubu was clinging on to his calf with all four legs. His shoulders slumped in evident disappointment when he saw that Isco had turned around in bed to look at him.

“I wanted to surprise you,” he said sadly.

“I'm surprised,” Isco said earnestly. He _was_ surprised.

“Not like that. I wanted to climb in bed and then we could have a little squabble about how now I owe you one occasion of getting into bed while dirty.”

“Okay, I'll go back to sleep,” Isco said, lying back down and turning to face the window. “I didn't hear anything. I'm still asleep. Put them back where you found them and come surprise me.”

Franco’s footsteps were excited as they faded away and then reappeared. The mattress dipped behind Isco as he climbed in.

“Hello,” he whispered, his minty fresh breath so familiar Isco almost fainted. “Surprise.”

Isco smiled. “Hi.”

“I've missed you.”

“Me, too. Gimme a kiss.”

“No. Morning breath.”

Isco scoffed. “You're dirty and in my bed.”

“I'm above the sheets.”

“You're still dirty. Now you owe me one.”

“Next time you come to my place you can lie in bed when you're dirty.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, but just once. Then you change the sheets.”

Isco slapped him on the shoulder. He wriggled around and squeezed Franco’s cheeks between his palms. He tried to kiss Franco but Franco made this ridiculous face.

“Just a peck,” Isco negotiated. “One second. Less than one second. It'll be over before you know it.”

Franco reluctantly agreed. He scrunched his face up as Isco kissed him, and he looked so _adorable_ Isco just had to kiss him some more.

“You lied,” he whined.

“I love you,” Isco said.

“I love you, too,” Franco said, but put his fingers on Isco’s lips to push him away when he came on to Franco again. “Brush your fucking teeth, pervert. Gross.”

“Make me,” Isco grumbled. He just wanted to lie in bed with his Franny.

Alas, Franco accepted the challenge. He got up and dragged Isco out of bed and draped him over his shoulder. He carried Isco to the bathroom and put some toothpaste on Isco’s toothbrush and literally shoved it into Isco’s mouth. He watched intently as Isco brushed his teeth.

Then Junior started _screaming_ again, “VAZQUEZ! VAZQUEZ!” and Franco’s face fucking _lit up_ like a firecracker and he asked, “Oh my God, is that where you learnt that from?”

Isco burst into laughter, because _yes_ , but he wasn’t about to admit that to Franco. So he said, “No, he learnt it from _me_.”

“Pfft,” Franco scoffed. He left to collect Junior, then came back with both Junior and Bubu again, one on each arm. “Your daddy’s a liar,” he said.

“What’s a liar?” Junior asked distractedly, being more interested in the drawstrings of Franco’s hoodie.

Isco watched as Franco’s life suddenly started crumbling in front of him because he realised he’d made a mistake. He almost laughed but he decided not to.

“It’s – it’s someone –” Franco stammered.

“Someone who lie down?” Junior asked.

“Yes,” Franco said shakily. “A liar is someone who lies down.”

“Vazquez I’m also a liar.”

And then Isco burst into laughter again because what kind of emotionless monster wouldn’t laugh at _that_? He got himself a glare from Franco but it was totally worth it.

“Come on,” he told Junior. “Papa is being mean. Let’s go outside and play with the things I got you.”

“Yeah, play!”

“Do you like them?”

“I like.”

“He hasn’t brushed his teeth,” Isco called as Franco just walked right out.

Franco reappeared at the door and put Bubu on the ground before going inside and brushing Junior’s teeth while ignoring Isco. Then he brought Junior back out and sat in his play area and listened to him babble for two hours straight, not even caring about breakfast.

Isco sat there eating his scrambled eggs and watching them and he thought, man. Franco would be such a fucking amazing father. With his gentle hands and his gentle voice and the stupid smile on his face he got whenever children were around. And the fact that he just completely melted and became a different soft Franco when he had to deal with kids.

And Isco thought of the _perfect_ anniversary gift for Franco – he was going to let Junior call Franco ‘papi,’ like Sonia had suggested.

Franco would be so happy. _Junior_ would be so happy. And since Isco and Franco never seemed to be able to put their feelings about their shared future properly into words, Isco thought maybe this would be a good way to let Franco know what he thought.

For some reason, Isco wasn’t worried. He wasn’t worried like he had been before, when he was scared to tell Franco he loved him because he was scared he would scare Franco away and he would end up not knowing what to tell Junior again. He wasn’t afraid that Franco would run. Because now he knew Franco _wouldn’t_. Franco wanted to stay. He just didn’t know how to let Isco know he did. Perhaps a part of him thought that Isco wouldn’t want him to stay. And Franco. That poor soft boy had too many feelings and he never knew how to share them with Isco. He always needed a little pushing from Isco.

But boy, when that pushing succeeded, the smile of relief on Franco’s face was more beautiful than any constellation in their everloving sky.

Isco eventually had to nudge his way into Franco and Junior’s little babbling session and feed them mouthfuls of scrambled eggs with Junior’s tiny plastic spoon because they just wouldn’t take a break to eat.

Franco made Junior model the t-shirts he’d gotten from Miami – and also like, twenty other baby shirts from everywhere else – and Junior had _so much fun_ , Isco didn’t remember ever seeing him laugh so much in one afternoon.

They were finally given some peace when Junior passed out for his afternoon nap, draped over Franco’s chest like a tiny little drunk dude. He was wearing his airplane shirt.

Isco snuggled up to Franco with a sigh. “I missed you two together,” he whispered.

“Yeah?” Franco smiled. He looked delighted that Isco would think that way.

“Yeah,” Isco smiled back at him. “You make each other so happy.”

“You make me happy too,” Franco said softly. He keened towards Isco but couldn’t reach Isco’s lips without jostling Junior. “Kiss,” he requested.

Isco kissed him softly on the lips, but it soon turned heavy as Franco parted his lips and used his tongue to force Isco to do the same. His breath was hot and wet and Isco felt all of it as he gasped.

“I’ll put him in bed,” Franco murmured, gesturing to Junior.

Isco nodded. He got up and followed Franco as Franco brisk-walked to the guest room and put Junior in his cot. He snuck up behind Franco and hugged him, one of his hands sliding down the front of Franco’s waist and cupping the bulge in his pants.

Franco gasped loudly and then froze to see if Junior had awoken. When he didn’t, Franco turned around and grabbed Isco’s hands so they would be – well, not on Franco’s crotch.

“There’s a kid here,” he whispered frantically.

It was an easy problem to solve. Isco pulled him out the door and shut it, then he just stood there in the hallway beaming at Franco. Franco’s eyes narrowed but it only made Isco start laughing, reaching for Franco’s hoodie pocket and tugging him closer. Franco looked so. So hot in all black. His hood pooled around his neck and he looked comfortable. He looked so fucking hot and Isco just wanted to devour him in the fucking hallway.

He slowly slid his hand downwards again, and Franco’s bulge felt bigger in Isco’s palm than it did the previous time in the room. He moved to unbutton and unzip Franco’s jeans but Franco decided he’d done enough staring so he shoved Isco hard against the wall and just. Just sucked the breath right out of Isco’s mouth as he slammed against the concrete. His hands moved to cup Isco’s bum as Isco scrambled to catch up with Franco’s tongue, and _God_ , this was what Isco had missed all these weeks. This was what he had been yearning for. Franco’s hands all over his body, the heat sending ironic shivers down Isco’s spine. Franco trapping him against a wall, against a table, against any surface at all, and making sweet, sweet love to him.

He took Franco’s hands on his thighs as a cue to jump on and latch to Franco like a koala. But instead of taking Isco into the bedroom, Franco evidently thought that getting into bed dirty once was enough for the day and instead brought him to the living room and threw him down on the couch. And normally Isco would be furious at the thought of someone physically slaving him around like that but he would literally let Franco throw him around _all fucking day_.

“Just blow me till I come,” Franco breathed hard as he practically ripped all his clothes off himself. He leaned back on the couch cushions and just sat there panting waiting for Isco to make a move.

Because this entire thing had been so _sudden_ there was no way that they were going to last more than, like, five minutes. Jesus, Franco was already so fucking hard he was fucking _oozing_. Isco went at him hungrily, quick and hard and with a hand over Franco’s mouth as Franco tried his hardest to keep his cries soft. He applied some pressure on one of Franco’s nipples and Franco gave a whimper that sounded so painful Isco almost stopped.

But only almost, because right then Franco curled up on himself as he came all over Isco’s face, surprising Isco so some of his come splashed into Isco’s mouth. Then he must've felt a little bad because he pulled Isco up face to face and started frenching him, his lips quivering as he rode out his orgasm.

He just lay there looking dazed for a while as Isco watched him, breathing hard and smiling. He eventually noticed Isco was looking at him and his face scrunched up in a tired smile.

“Make me come,” Isco whispered. “I want to fuck your pretty face.”

Franco giggled. He _giggled._ He pulled Isco down for another kiss and then shoved him around until he was straddling Franco’s shoulders. His cheeks hollowed as Isco slid himself into Franco’s mouth and started to thrust, tightening his grip on Isco’s cock and making Isco just. Just buckle over Franco’s head with a silent scream because _God_ , it was so fucking hot. Franco's lips tight around his length and getting tighter by the second. The vaguest feeling of his teeth grazing on Isco’s dick. The look on his face so concentrated as if his life depended on giving Isco all the pleasure he could afford. The _sound_ of Isco’s balls slapping Franco’s chin, the icky smack of his cock hitting the back of Franco’s throat.

Isco came no more than two minutes later, into Franco’s mouth so the couch wouldn't get dirty. He felt Franco smile as he rubbed his dick all over Franco’s beard, reveling in the prickly sensation. He kinda liked it when Franco was under him like that, all submissive. It was kinda hot.

He picked his t-shirt up from the floor and wiped Franco’s abdomen, and then he just. Just was suddenly so exhausted he just collapsed on Franco and burrowed a hole in Franco's shoulder.

“Oh,” Franco said lazily. He didn't continue.

“What?” Isco asked.

“Hmm.”

Isco sighed. Franco making weird post-coital noises like the weirdo he was. Nothing new.

Isco had almost dozed off when Franco nudged him awake and gestured in the direction of the kitchen, where Bubu was curled up under the island looking in their direction with big beady eyes.

“That's kinda creepy,” Franco said.

Isco laughed. “Well, he must be glad we didn't go at it doggy style.”

Franco smacked him loudly on the shoulder. “Gross.”

Then he got up and went to Bubu, totally naked, just picked Bubu up cautiously and carried him like a child, almost as if he thought Bubu would be traumatised. But he was far from that. He started trying to lick Franco on the face like he usually did, but on that day he was just going to get a salty mouthful of the remnants of Isco’s orgasm so Franco held him at arm’s length and said, “No! No, nope. You can't lick my face. Papa’s been – nope. Stop! I'm going to take a shower.”

Then he put Bubu back down and Bubu trotted over to Isco so Franco yelled at him to ‘move his perky butt’ and Isco had no choice but to. Not before checking the couch for anything Bubu might get his tongue on, though. Fortunately, there was nothing.

It was time for lunch after their shower, so Franco got down to cooking. All voluntary as well, not even asking Isco, who in all honesty just wanted to take a nap. Instead, he sat on the kitchen island watching Franco be beautiful.

Lunch was some spaghetti and grilled chicken with broccoli. Franco garnished Junior’s tiny plate nicely for him.

“You're so hot when you're cooking,” Isco said.

Franco smiled shyly. “You've said that before.”

“It hasn't changed.”

Franco put their plates under the heating lamp and walked over to Isco, nudging his thighs apart so he could stand in between them and kiss Isco.

“If you're trying to ask for another orgasm, it's not gonna happen today,” he said softly, a smirk on his lips.

“Just telling the truth,” Isco said innocently. He beamed up at Franco.

Franco chuckled. “Okay,” he said, obliging when Isco wrapped his arms and legs around him, holding him close. “If you say so.”

“My entire family loves you,” Isco whispered into the skin below Franco’s ear. “Even my dogs. Even Sonia.”

“Yeah?” Franco breathed. He seemed. Seemed suddenly breathless. “Are you...you okay with that?”

“Of course I am,” Isco said. “It makes me so happy.”

“Really?”

Isco nodded. “I love that you're a part of us.”

Franco pulled away and just. Just held Isco by the shoulders, his eyes darting frantically around Isco’s face although his body remained freakishly still. It was in these moments, these moments where Franco showed how _good_ he was at keeping all his insecurities inside of him, that Isco felt the true weight of all of Franco’s layers. All the walls Franco had built and had yet to tear down.

And Isco hated how many of those layers he had contributed to. He hated that he had pushed Franco away, that he had let Franco go, again and again and again. Those were the biggest regrets of his life and he relived them each time Franco had come back to him with one wall torn down but five others taking its place. And he wished he could go back in time and remake all those decisions, because he’d choose to stay with Franco every single time.

He cupped Franco’s jaw with his hand. It barely fit around.

“Yeah?” Franco finally asked, in barely a whisper.

Isco nodded.

“I don't – I don't really know how to – what to –” Franco attempted, but gave up and just shrugged a shoulder and looked at Isco with his beautiful brown _terrified_ eyes.

Isco pulled him close again, pushing his face into Franco’s shoulder and taking in that comfortable, domestic smell of his eucalyptus shower gel and the grease from cooking lunch.

“It's okay,” he whispered. He hadn't noticed but Franco had been shaking a little. It stopped when Isco tightened his arms. “I love you. And that's all that matters.”

Franco kissed Isco on the temple. Then he just rocked a little with Isco, like he thought if he let go his life would just go crumbling to the ground in tiny glass pieces.

“I'll go get Junior and we’ll eat, ‘kay?” Isco asked softly, afraid he would like, scare Franco or something.

Franco nodded. He went over to their plates and brought them out to the living room. Isco joined him with Junior a minute later.

Junior sat ok the floor nearer to the TV as he ate. Franco settled on the couch with Isco, slowly unraveling his plate as Isco just dove in immediately. He was so. So big and calm and he just. Just made everything so peaceful.

“Hey, you thought about Junior’s birthday party yet?” Franco asked. In his soft, soothing voice too.

“Not really,” Isco said, his mouth stuffed full of chicken. “Just something simple like last year, probably.”

“Can I help?” Franco asked timidly. “I mean, you know, if Sonia doesn’t mind.”

“Sure, yeah,” Isco smiled. “She won’t mind.”

“Sure?”

“A hundred percent.”

Franco smiled. He eyed Isco’s plate and discovered Isco had almost run out of chicken, so he swept a few of his chicken chunks onto Isco’s plate. Then he got up and went to sit next to Junior, trying to teach Junior how to twirl his spaghetti but eventually failing so hard Franco just started slurping loudly the way Junior was, just to entertain him.

And Isco realised Franco was wrong. It wasn’t so often that Franco was _wrong_ , but Isco realised that he was.

He was wrong when he said he didn’t know how to have his own family and he was wrong when he said he didn’t know what to do.

Because he already did and Isco had the privilege of witnessing it with his very own eyes.

\------

When Alvaro’s house was all done up, he invited everyone over for some sort of housewarming.

Well, his definition of ‘everyone’ was just Isco, Franco, and Paulo. Or maybe he segregated it into a few housewarming parties. Who even knew what that dickhead was thinking? Franco never did.

Anyway, he wanted to get Alvaro a present even though Isco was all chill about it saying they’d been friends since forever. But it was only polite, so Franco spent some time at the airport looking for something to bring. He eventually settled on a bottle of wine.

They stood at Alvaro’s door for a really long time after knocking but nobody came to open it. They had a brief crisis about whether they’d gotten the right address and Isco had just gotten his phone out to check when the door opened and behind it stood a very frantic Alvaro with his boxers on and his t-shirt half tugged over his head, one arm in its sleeve and the other on its way through.

“Hi,” Isco said with an awkward wave.

“You’re early,” Alvaro said. His other arm slid through its sleeve.

“No we’re not,” Franco checked his watch. In fact, they were fifteen minutes late.

There was a silence that dragged on for a few beats too long, then Isco tiptoed and whispered into Franco’s ear, “I think they’re having sex.”

Franco turned to him with his brows furrowed. “How do you know that?” he asked.

“Shh,” Isco said, as if Alvaro wasn’t standing _right there_.

Franco rolled his eyes. “Can we come in?”

“Um…” Alvaro started to say.

“No, we’ll take a walk around,” Isco said, tugging at Franco’s arm so he’d move his ass. “See ya later, Alvaro.”

“What?” Franco asked as Isco pulled him all the way to the elevator. That unbelievably strong little piece of shit.

“Why’d you wanna hang around while they’re doing it?”

“How do you know they’re doing it?”

“It’s obvious. Alvaro has that ‘doing it’ face.”

Franco laughed. “It’s not like he’s ever bothered to, you know, not walk in on us while _we’re_ doing it.”

Isco gave a little giggle, then gasped. “Wait, do you think Paulo’s in there, or is it someone else?”

“Why would you even say that?” Franco asked. “That sounds ridiculous.”

“Maybe Alvaro’s just doing it with himself.”

“Okay, that sounds less ridiculous.”

“You think so?”

“No. I saw Paulo’s shoes.”

Isco glared at him. “Well, why didn’t you say so before I said all that?”

“You wouldn’t stop talking.”

Isco smacked him on the shoulder and stormed ahead. He soon got lost in the crowd, but Franco eventually caught up with him because he got distracted by something in a shop window. Then he went inside and came out with four matching black wool coats, one for the each of them, a kid-sized one for Junior, and a super tiny one he said Bubu could wear. God, that poor little dog.

“It’s summer,” Franco pointed out as Isco showed him the coats.

“I look good in it,” was Isco’s explanation. “And it’ll be winter again sometime.”

Franco didn’t even know where to _start_ , so he just kept quiet. He held Isco’s paper bag for him while he got distracted by several other windows.

“Everything feels different here,” Isco remarked.

“It’s gloomier,” Franco said.

“Just makes all the shops brighter against the sky.”

He wasn’t wrong. The colors sort of popped against the sky. The sun peeked out from behind some clouds. Even Isco’s olive green shirt seemed too bright. Franco watched Isco as he whizzed around within the London crowd. London was pretty cool. It was a city but with some old buildings. It was a nice blend.

“You like the buildings?” Isco asked.

Franco smiled. Isco _always_ read his mind. “Yeah.”

“Should we add London to our retirement list?”

“If you want,” Franco said. He wrapped an arm around Isco and kissed him on the head. He couldn’t believe Isco wanted to retire with him. That meant Isco still saw them together in like, ten years. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Isco whispered. “I can’t wait to spend all my life with you and I promise I’ll never let you go ever again.”

Franco didn’t exactly. He didn’t know what exactly to say. So he just hugged Isco tight and smiled at Isco when Isco looked at him. And Isco didn’t say another word, like he knew that this silence was all he was going to get from Franco and that he understood it completely. Franco loved how off-guard Isco was around him. He loved how much Isco trusted him. Even after everything they’d been through just a couple of months ago. Isco still trusted Franco so intensely and immediately and Franco didn’t know what he’d ever done to deserve someone like him.

They made it back to Alvaro’s place about an hour later. Paulo opened the door this time.

“You’re fifteen minutes late,” he said.

“We were fifteen minutes late an hour ago,” Franco pointed out.

He heard a loud sigh from Alvaro, who was sprawled on the couch. “It’s one hour behind in London,” he said, like he’d already repeated that a thousand times to a thousand different people.

“Oh,” Isco and Franco said in unison.

“It’s not like you to forget timezones,” Paulo said to Franco.

Franco jabbed a finger at Isco. He was too busy getting distracted by Alvaro’s funny cup collection. What a couple of weirdos. “It’s his influence,” Franco said.

“So how’s it feel like being caught in the middle of sex?” Isco asked, stopping at the couch next to Alvaro.

Alvaro glared at him. “Ask yourself.”

“Mmhmm. I already know how it feels. ‘Cause you did it twice.”

Alvaro repeated that mockingly. Everyone glared at him; except Paulo, who went and sat beside him defensively. Which didn't really work. He just sort of looked like a bird whose food had been stolen.

“We brought you wine,” Franco said, passing the bottle to Alvaro.

“Thanks,” Alvaro said happily, examining the bottle. “Nice.”

“He brought you wine. I had nothing to do with it,” Isco said.

Everyone ignored him, which was honestly what he deserved for being such an asshole at someone else’s housewarming party. They all sat down on the couch, Franco in an armchair, and Alvaro went to get some wine glasses so they could drink Franco’s wine.

Some kind of party it turned out to be. Everyone just sat around quietly. Paulo and Isco took turns changing the channel on TV, each of them just reaching for the remote between them and jabbing at it with their fingers. Alvaro sipped nervously on his wine, his eyes darting around violently. They occasionally met Paulo’s, and Paulo would raise his eyebrows as if to ask ‘what?’ but Alvaro wouldn’t respond.

Franco made eye contact with him and Alvaro was so shocked he nearly threw his wine on the floor.

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Franco said. “We’re not going to have another fourso–”

Isco _lunged_ across the space between the couch and armchair and flung his hand over Franco’s mouth before he very gracelessly fell to the floor, pulling Franco with him.

“Don't say that word,” he said breathlessly, draped over Franco like it was a normal thing to do on someone else's living room floor.

“What word?” Franco asked. “Foursome?”

“Franco!”

“Well, it was hanging in the air! Everyone's thinking about it!”

“I wasn't,” Paulo said innocently.

“You're lying,” Franco said. Paulo cowered into Alvaro’s shoulder. Franco turned to Isco. “Will you get off me now?”

“Funny, you never say that when I'm trying to give you an orgas–”

“Blah blah blah, no one needs to hear that!” Paulo called loudly.

Isco started giggling and Franco pushed him off so he could get up. He dusted himself off and got back in his seat. Isco decided he wanted to curl in Franco’s lap, so he did just that without any protest from Franco because he knew he’d lose anyway.

“You know that thing straight people do where they say they get one free pass to have sex with someone else besides their partner?” Alvaro suddenly asked amidst the silence.

“You'd know that, we’re all gay here,” Isco said. Everyone glared at him again so he raised his hands in surrender.

“And?” Franco asked.

“Maybe we should do that. One free pass for another foursome.”

A short silence.

“We need a code word for that word,” was Isco’s response.

“How about fishball?” Paulo suggested.

“Sounds silly,” Isco remarked. “Okay. Fishball.”

“So one free pass?” Paulo asked.

“Maybe for before you guys get married,” Isco said. “Hey, are you getting married anytime soon? I'd love to claim my fishball.”

Paulo started laughing and Alvaro was just. He just looked appalled at what was happening between Paulo and Isco right then. Frankly, Franco was too. He gave Isco what he hoped was a _‘you're just going to let this happen?’_ look. You know, as opposed to a _‘wow, I can't wait to make three people orgasm again’_ look.

Franco realised he was the only one in the room who hadn't actually shown any interest in this.

So he said, “Okay,” and he found incredible amusement in watching Alvaro almost freak out and die – but inside, not outwardly, so his eyes just sorta went all wonky but he didn't say anything.

“We all need to kiss to seal the deal,” Isco said.

Franco groaned. “We're not gonna do this again.”

“We are,” Isco announced. “Let’s go.”

Then he pecked Franco on the lips and without any sort of hesitation at all, got up and did the same to Paulo and Alvaro. Alvaro gave this little shrug then kissed Paulo. Franco grumbled, “I’m not kissing anyone.”

“Then everyone’s gonna kiss you,” Isco cooed – and as if on cue, Paulo and Alvaro just got up and came over to Franco and took turns to kiss Franco on the lips.

Franco couldn't believe he was stuck with these idiots for the rest of his life.

“Y'all just wanna get a piece of this,” Franco said, pointing at himself.

“The whole piece is mine,” Isco said.

Paulo and Alvaro were being worryingly quiet after they returned to their seats, so Franco nudged Isco in the ribs and told him to look.

And Isco, being the smart-ass problem solver he was, almost immediately popped the tension with, “So how long does it take to fly from Turin to London?”

“‘Bout two hours,” Paulo said softly. “It's the same from Turin to Madrid.”

“Cool,” Isco said, his voice softening to match Paulo’s. “You guys doing good?”

Paulo turned to Alvaro, who gave him a nervous smile. Paulo turned back to Isco, swallowing audibly but not giving an answer. Alvaro answered for him, “Yeah.”

Then they turned to the TV and just. Just stared at it in unison, not saying a word, hands clasped gently in each other’s. Isco distracted them by turning the xbox on and suggesting they play FIFA. Paulo watched on gleefully as Isco and Alvaro started a game against each other because they only had two controllers so far.

Franco got up when Isco moved back to the couch. He went over to the big window, where there was a single 1.5-seater armchair with a few fluffy pillows. Franco curled up in it and hugged a cushion to himself.

The view from the full window was mesmerising. It was in the late afternoon, so the yellowish sun cast its light all the way across the view from the extreme right. There was a skinny sliver of sunlight that fell on Franco’s foot when he extended it. Franco could glimpse Big Ben and the London Eye in the distance. He could see little parts of the Tower Bridge. They all looked small, like the little Lego sculptures Franco had of them.

Franco thought that he’d love to live in London someday.

Maybe if he had this apartment, he wouldn’t even use the bedrooms. He’d just put a bed out here, in the corner, against the window. So he could watch the city go to sleep every night and he could fall asleep under the loving gaze of the vast sky he could see. And in the morning the sun would rise in the opposite direction from the window, so London would be orange from Franco’s view.

It sounded great, but something was missing. Franco couldn’t pinpoint exactly what it was. Maybe the kitchen was in the wrong place. Maybe this place needed a balcony.

And then Isco came over and squeezed into the half-seat remaining in the armchair and Franco immediately realised what had been missing in his daydream.

“Hey,” he said.

Franco didn't reply him for a while. He just sat there, just. Just marveling at how _perfectly_ it all suddenly fell into place. Going to sleep next to the window with Isco, who'd let him have the side closer to the glass just because Franco liked it. Waking up to them having swapped positions because Isco woke up earlier and was bored. Listening to Isco describe the different shades of orange that bathed London in words Franco had barely known existed.

“Are you mad?” Isco asked.

Franco shook his head, both as a response and to shake himself back into reality. “Why would I be?” he asked.

Isco shrugged. “About the fishball thing.”

Franco laughed. “Nah. I'm not mad.”

“You didn't respond when I said hi.”

Franco smiled. “I was just thinking. I'm not mad. Promise.”

“If you don't wanna do it then we just...we won't. Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Franco booped him on the nose. “Don't you worry your pretty little head.”

Isco beamed at him. He nudged his butt over one of Franco’s thighs and curled up into Franco. “Watcha thinking about?”

Franco wrapped his arms around Isco and pressed his lips to Isco’s ear. “Would you like to live in a place like this?”

Isco turned his head a little and Franco saw a small smile on his face. He nuzzled his head under Franco’s chin. “Yeah, ‘course.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, we could put a bed by the window and you could nerd out every night. And every morning. And just all the time, basically.”

Franco laughed. He kissed Isco on the cheek. “That’s exactly what I was thinking about.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, the bed by the window.”

“Who needs a bedroom when you have this window?”

“Alvaro, apparently.”

Isco leaned his cheek on Franco’s shoulder. “Maybe when we retire we could move to a new country every year.”

“You think so?”

“Or maybe just different environments,” Isco said. “You know? Maybe we could live in a cabin at a mountainside for a while.”

“Sounds great, baby.”

Isco smiled proudly. “I can’t wait.”

“Me neither.”

“Franco,” Isco whispered, but didn’t turn to look at him. “You know, we’re always talking about the future? About what we’re gonna do and where we’re gonna go? And I just, sometimes it just makes me very worried. You know? If I’m thinking too far ahead. For us. And I just feel like...like if this all doesn’t happen, then I’m – I’m just going to be really, really heartbroken.”

“Me too,” Franco said softly.

“I don’t want you to think that I’m trying to strap you down or anything,” Isco continued. “Because I’m – I’m not trying to. I just, looking forward to a future with you just makes me so happy. And I think, I hope it makes you happy too. I don’t want to make you scared. But I just want you to let me know if you think I’m going too far. I don’t want you to keep it to yourself just ‘cause you don’t want me to be upset. Because I just – I want you to want this as much as me. If you don’t, then it’s fine, I just wanna know. Yeah?”

“Okay,” Franco whispered. “Yeah.”

“I love you so much.”

“I love you too,” Franco kissed him on the temple. “Don’t be heartbroken, okay?”

Isco smiled. “Never when I’m with you.”

“I love you,” Franco said again. “Forever.”

“Don’t say that.”

“It’s true,” Franco said. “Remember when we first got together, and you said that me being demiromantic, it means that I really, really, really like you?”

“Yeah?”

“It will always be that way. Okay? I don’t know how to explain it to you. It’s just that I know I will never feel this way for anyone else and I will never stop feeling this way for you because you’re in my fucking head, Alarcon, okay? I love you so fucking much.”

Isco turned his head up and beamed at Franco. “I’m a parasite.”

“Mmhmm. You are.”

The couch area seemed suddenly quiet, so they turned to look. Paulo and Alvaro, previously having been rowdy while challenging each other on FIFA, were now silent and sitting there watching a rerun of an old EPL match. Alvaro was leaning on one of the armrests. He had one leg stretched out on the coffee table and the other bent on the seat, and Paulo was nestled comfortably between them. They weren’t speaking, weren’t looking at each other. They were just sort of gazing sadly at the TV, heads turned sideways.

“You think they’re okay?” Franco asked.

“I think so,” Isco shrugged. “Maybe they’re just upset about being apart.”

“Yeah,” Franco said thoughtfully. “Maybe these dumbasses didn’t talk about it again.”

“I’m sure they did,” Isco said. “It’s just, you know. They’re just sad in general.”

Franco sighed. “I’m hungry. Are you hungry?”

“Yeah, I’d like a sandwich.”

“You think Alvaro would mind if I made some?”

“Don’t think so,” Isco said. He got up and stretched his legs. “Go make some. I’ll go figure out what’s wrong with them.”

Franco watched his eager little boyfriend trot his way over to interrupt Paulo and Alvaro’s peace and he felt this flutter in his chest, this irrepressible affection that threatened to knock him out right there and then. He was so proud of Isco and his ability to diffuse any sort of situation, any kind of problem. Not just with Franco, but with all his friends; tailor-made concern to every situation and somehow the ability to still find space in his heart and mind to listen to and understand them.

Franco would never get tired of it. He would never get tired of watching Isco just be so _thoroughly himself_ , of watching Isco share his spacious heart with the world. And he would never, ever get bored of imagining a perfect future with his Isco Alarcon, because if Franco really had to admit it, he’d say that it was the one thing that kept him going every day.

\------

Alvaro knew Isco was in one of his pesky _‘let me talk to you and help solve some of your problems’_ mood when he returned to the couch without Franco.

He sat down next to Paulo and asked, “Do you guys think I'm fat?”

“No,” Paulo said immediately, surprised. “Who said that?”

“I don't know, just people.”

“You're not fat. You're sturdy.”

“There's nothing wrong with being fat,” Alvaro pointed out.

“There might be if you're a footballer,” Isco said.

“I think we're around the same size,” Paulo said. “Hey, did you ask Franco?”

“No, I don't want him to beat someone up,” Isco said.

Alvaro laughed. “Smart.”

“I don’t think you’re fat,” Paulo said, reaching over and squeezing Isco’s bicep like he was testing the waters. “Yeah.”

Isco laughed like he thought Paulo was the most adorable thing he’d ever seen. “Thanks,” he said. “Hey. You guys ever thought of adding some colour to this place? Everything’s grey.”

Paulo turned to Alvaro. Alvaro said, “It’s artistic.”

Isco scoffed. “It’s gloomy.”

“Not that gloomy,” Paulo said defensively. “I have a blue work table!”

“Yeah, for him to do his arts and crafts,” Alvaro smiled. He was just teasing. But he was also serious. Paulo and his little crafts were always the highlight of Alvaro’s day.

“You visit Alvaro often?” Isco asked Paulo.

Paulo shrugged. “Not really. This is only the third time.”

“You guys dealing with it okay?”

“I guess,” Paulo started playing with his fingers like he did when he was nervous. “I don’t know. I guess it’ll take some time getting used to it. You know, like last year. Especially after the summer and with the new time difference and all.”

“Yeah,” Isco said softly. “But you guys will do it, yeah? And you know Franco and I will always be here. Yeah?”

Paulo smiled. “Yeah.”

“Oh, hey,” Isco suddenly said excitedly. “I found this website where you can find limited edition and discontinued Lego sets.”

“Really?” Paulo asked, his eyes immediately lighting up. “Where? Show me.”

Isco took Alvaro’s iPad from the table and keyed in the website as Paulo hovered around curiously. Alvaro watched for a while, horrified that Isco had been dragged into the Lego cult. Then he got up and left because Paulo couldn’t care less about him now that he had Legos anyway.

He found Franco in the kitchen, spreading butter on bread.

“Hungry?” Alvaro asked.

Franco jumped a little like he’d been caught doing something illegal. “A little,” he said. “Sorry. Isco’s hungry, too.”

“Let’s make some burgers for everyone,” Alvaro suggested, opening the fridge and finding some lettuce and raw chicken patties. He handed Franco the lettuce along with a bag of hamburger buns.

Franco washed the lettuce as Alvaro prepared the chicken. Then he just sort of. Sort of floated around Alvaro watching him season the chicken and Alvaro had to stare at him for a while before he finally said, “Could you add more pepper to one of them? Isco likes it peppery.”

So Alvaro did just that. Franco continued hovering around as Alvaro put the four chicken patties in a frying pan.

“More?” Alvaro asked.

Franco shook his head quickly and went back to guard his lettuce. He didn’t seem to know how to act alone around Alvaro. Alvaro didn’t blame him for that because he knew exactly how that felt.

“Isco found a new website selling limited edition or discontinued Lego sets,” Alvaro said, just to break the silence.

“Yeah?” Franco asked. He seemed calm about it and didn’t like, nerd out or whatever. “Is it that one that’s white and blue all over?”

“I think so,” Alvaro said, gesturing towards the living room with the spatula. Paulo and Isco were huddled over the iPad, chattering excitedly. “That’s what they’re so excited about. Did he tell you about it?”

“No, but I've seen him on it quite a lot. I think he’s gonna buy something for me.”

“Yeah?” Alvaro laughed. “God, he sucks at being discreet.”

“What a dork.”

“You know, I didn't know about the pepper thing until you came along?” Alvaro asked.

“You didn't?”

“Mmhmm. Makes me seem like a horrible friend.”

“Nah,” Franco said kindly. He went over to Alvaro's counter and leaned on it, watching Alvaro deal with the sizzling chicken. “He doesn't really make a fuss about it.”

A short silence.

“Do you think Isco’s fat?” Alvaro asked.

He immediately regretted it because Franco started _glaring_ at him and Alvaro nearly flipped the entire frying pan. And then he also remember that Isco said not to tell Franco, so. Well, fuck.

“What?” Franco asked.

“Isco said he heard people talking. I don't think he's fat. Being fat isn't a bad thing, anyway.”

Franco’s look softened. He sighed. “People suck.”

“I know.”

“I’ll take care of him,” Franco said. “Thanks.”

“He said not to tell you ‘cause you'll go beat someone up,” Alvaro said, laughing.

“Yeah?” Franco laughed, too, much to Alvaro’s relief. “Well, he's right.”

“I get it,” Alvaro said softly. “People like us. Being in an industry like the one we're in. There's always people talking.”

“I'm just,” Franco shrugged. “I'm not gonna let it come between me and Isco. Like...like the last time. I'm not going to let that happen again.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro smiled. He knew his best friend was in incredible hands.

“How're you and Paulo doing?” Franco asked.

Alvaro sighed. He’d escaped from Isco’s questions but it turned out Franco was just going to do the same thing. “It’s cool,” he said.

“You hate it, don't you?”

“I'm trying not to be like that.”

“It gets better. You know that.”

Alvaro didn’t respond to that. He got four slices of mozzarella from the fridge and draped them over the chicken patties, and then covered the pan so they’d melt. He stood next to Franco, leaning on the counter.

“How do you deal with it?” he asked quietly. “Living apart from Isco.”

There was no sound from Franco for a while. He just blinked at the ground in front of him. Then he said, “I guess it’s different. We’ve never lived together before.”

“But how do you deal with never being able to see him?”

Franco smiled sadly. “Just look forward to the times I get to see him.”

“That’s all?”

“Yeah.”

“It’s very...simple.”

“It is,” Franco said earnestly. “I used to think it was hard, too. Like you. But you know...these are just the bad parts. The bad parts shouldn’t be the biggest parts of your relationship. The good parts should be. And...and Morata. You and Paulo have had more than your fair share of bad parts. It’s time for you to stop focusing on them. Try focusing on the nice parts. When you’ll get to see him next, or the little things that remind you of him, or the little collection of things you’ve bought to give him the next time he’s here ‘cause you know he’d like them. Life’s never gonna be perfect, you know? But it’s just. Paulo makes your life just so much better, just so little less than perfect. And that’s something to be happy about, on the big scale. Not that you can’t wake up to him. It’s just. It’s not these parts of the relationship that keep me going, you know? It’s the knowledge that I’ll see Isco, that I’ll get to hold him again, and that he loves me as much as I love him. Those are the parts that should keep you going and those are the parts that should always overpower any negative feelings. Looking forward to meeting him should make you happier than being apart from him makes you sad. If it doesn’t, then maybe you have to reconsider your relationship. But I know it does for you. Morata. You have to focus on the right things.”

Alvaro smiled. Franco. Franco talked in such simple words that held so many deeper meanings. And yet it was these simple things that Alvaro couldn’t see himself.

“What are your favourite things to look forward to?” Alvaro asked softly, afraid that Franco wouldn’t want to answer that.

Franco gave a little shrug like he didn’t really know what to say, but then just went right into it and started rambling.

“When I’m on the train, he’ll text me this giant purple heart and say he can’t wait to see me. And then he’ll be at the station and he’ll _always_ have a new magazine with him, he’ll buy a new magazine while waiting and no matter whether it’s been five minutes or fifty minutes, the corners will always be dog-eared. He’ll have this big smile on his face, even if he’s tired. I love that smile. It keeps me going every day. He’ll hold my bags and he’ll be really quiet when I talk and he’ll have this. This look on his face. I can’t describe it. But he always listens to me and he always wears that look and I love to see it. And his hand is so soft and it just fits in mine. And I’ll spend the entire day listening to him talk and I don’t get tired of it. I love listening to his voice. He’ll lie on my shoulder and his face fits right in the nook under my arm, and his voice is so gentle against my shirt. Sometimes he makes us take a photo. I don’t really like photos. But I like taking photos with him, ‘cause I know a few years down the road we’ll look back at them and see how we’ve grown.”

Alvaro chuckled. That was. That was a lot to take in. “Sounds amazing,” he whispered.

“What about you?” Franco asked encouragingly. “What do you look forward to?”

“Just to hold Paulo,” Alvaro said softly.

“And?”

“And to see his eyes light up when I speak. To hold his tiny hands. To hear him just...just describe literally everything he sees. To watch him gobble up his food like a little puppy. And sometimes...sometimes he just pushes his head into my neck when he wants to cuddle. I want to hear him say he loves me and not have kilometers of phone lines separating his lips from my ears.”

Franco smiled. “That’s nice. Focus on this.”

“It’s so much more than this. I can’t put it into words.”

“I know,” Franco said kindly. “It’s an accumulation of the past eight years. No one can blame you.”

“It’s just, distance has always been a thing for me, you know?”

“I know,” Franco said. “Alvaro. The worst years of your relationship are over. I promise you. They are gone and they won’t be back. Now all you have to do is look forward to the best years of your life. And to do that you have to start small, you have to look forward to the best days of your life with Paulo. You have to stop living in the shadow of your past. It’s gone now. And you two, you deserve a good life together, and you're gonna get it.”

Alvaro managed a shaky smile. “You think so?”

“Mmhmm,” Franco mumbled. “Maybe just. You know. You could always set a time to meet. Whether it’s Paulo travelling or you travelling. Pick an exact date so you know what’s coming up. Maybe one of the reasons why you’re so doubtful about this is because you don’t know when the next good day is coming. So do that. Then you know when your next good day will be.”

“Yeah,” Alvaro said softly.

“It takes some time,” Franco said. “But eventually you’ll realise that this is so much more important, so much more fulfilling than brooding over the distance.”

“Thank you, Franco.”

“Yeah,” Franco beamed. “Hey. Why don’t you go visit Paulo sometimes? It’s always Paulo who’s travelling to Madrid to find you. Or London.”

Alvaro gave that a thought. He hadn’t realised it but it was true. “Yeah. I’ll go visit him more.”

“You can surprise him.”

Alvaro laughed. “He’d like that. Dork.”

“Alvaro,” Franco said. “I know we’ve had our differences. But I just. I know you and Paulo will be okay. I've always known. Yeah?”

“Thank you,” Alvaro said again.

Franco gave his shoulder a squeeze. The oil in the frying pan gave a little pop, so Alvaro turned the stove off.

“Hey,” Franco said, a little hesitantly, like he wasn’t sure if he should try to make conversation. When Alvaro turned to him with the chicken on a napkin to dry the oil, Franco gestured towards the living room. Paulo and Isco were still huddled over the iPad, speaking inaudibly but with bright smiles on their faces. Their heads were so close, they were almost touching. “Maybe you should be worried about them. Instead of me and Paulo.”

Alvaro burst into laughter. “Yeah, I think they’re secretly in love.”

“I know. Isco’s obsessed with him.”

“Isn’t he?” Alvaro smiled. His best friend had such a big heart. “He cares a lot about Paulo. Since way before he met you.”

“Yeah, even though they’ve never been…” Franco shrugged, like he didn’t really know how to continue.

“Close?”

“Yeah.”

“Isco makes it look so easy to care for someone.”

“He does,” Franco smiled. “I love that about him.”

“What do you think they’re talking about?” Alvaro asked, still watching Isco and Paulo. They just. They just clicked so well, even back during their very first meeting in 2013. And every time they spoke to each other they managed to find a topic they both loved.

“Probably something lame,” Franco said. “Like how to cook. Or interior design. Or _real estate_.”

Alvaro laughed. “Or maybe they’re still talking about Legos.”

“Nah,” Franco said, deadpan. “Isco looks too interested.”

“You know what?” Alvaro said softly. “I’m glad. That they don’t have the same...the same thing that we did. With each other.”

Franco smiled. He looked charming when he smiled. “Yeah, me too.”

Alvaro placed the chicken on the buns and lettuce Franco had prepared. Then he put the top buns on and took the plate. “C’mon. Our boyfriends are hungry.”

“Well, so am I,” Franco said, hurrying after him. “Give me mine.”

“Nope, you gotta wait and have it together.”

Franco gave a little huff. He went and sat next to Isco and he said, “I made him do an extra peppery one.”

“Yeah?” Isco said gleefully. “Thanks.”

“Give it to him,” Franco said sternly to Alvaro.

Alvaro tutted at him. He handed Isco the one with more pepper, which he’d marked with a hole in the top of the bun. And Isco was so _delighted_ and Franco was just smiling at him, and then. And then they started _kissing_ and Alvaro was like _Jesus Christ_ , and he turned to Paulo, and.

And Paulo was just looking at him with the dreamiest eyes, his hands loosely holding the iPad. His lips curved up in a stunning smile as Alvaro sat next to him and handed him the plate.

“I bought new Legos,” he said, his mouth full as he dug into his burger. Alvaro took his own and put the plate on the table for Franco to take his burger when, you know. When he was done sucking Isco’s face.

“Yeah?” Alvaro grinned. Paulo looked like a puppy again, gobbling his food. Alvaro saved this image in his mind as something to look forward to. “What is it?”

“It’s a castle.”

“I'll build it with you.”

Paulo smiled. He licked his lips and kissed Alvaro on the cheek. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Alvaro said softly. He sat and watched Paulo eat for a while, just. Just mesmerized. Paulo was so soft and adorable and he was. He was just a child. “Pau,” Alvaro whispered.

“Yeah?”

“Are you happy?”

A tiny smile made its way back across Paulo’s face. “Yeah, I am. Why?”

“I just wanna know if you're happy being with me.”

“‘Course I am,” Paulo said earnestly. He looked at Alvaro with the same dreamy eyes, like he was seeing something new in Alvaro’s gaze. “Yeah. I'm so happy I'm with you, Alvi.”

“Even after everything?”

“ _Especially_ after everything.”

Alvaro kissed the top of Paulo’s head. He sat and watched Paulo eat his burger and, when he’d finished and was still hungry, try to steal some of Isco’s. When Isco refused him, he turned to Alvaro.

Alvaro gave Paulo his burger.

The rest of the afternoon went by quietly; it was definitely quieter than any housewarming party Alvaro had imagined. Alvaro just sat in his corner on the couch and watched everybody talk, and eat, and play, and have fun. He felt so. So at home, in this strange country he had barely ever been to before. So at home in the middle of his closest friends in the world.

Suddenly, everything Alvaro had been worried about the past month disintegrated into nothing.

Because as clichéd as it sounded, home was less of a place than it was a feeling. And Alvaro knew that as long as he put in the effort to keep the three of them around – as long as could have _Paulo_ around, he would always be right at home.

\------

Paulo couldn’t think about anything for the rest of the day besides how _different_ Alvaro looked when he’d come out of the kitchen with the burgers.

There had been a glaze of melancholy in Alvaro’s eyes ever since he’d learnt he was moving to London. Paulo had hoped that it would go away, but even in August, it hadn’t. Even on that day with Isco and Franco, Alvaro had just looked upset the whole day; he hadn’t said anything to Paulo, but Paulo could just feel it by sitting next to Alvaro. The way he breathed. The way he sighed. The way he held Paulo, his fingers lingering whenever they had to let go.

But when Alvaro had emerged from the kitchen with his masterchef-worthy chicken burgers, his eyes were brighter and happier than Paulo had ever seen them. Like something in him had shifted. Something in him had snapped into place. Paulo _couldn’t stop_ looking at him.

Paulo thought he was being fucking ridiculous when he asked Paulo if Paulo was happy.

Nevertheless, Alvaro spent the day looking happy and dazed and Paulo thought that was so cute he was ready to forgive Alvaro for anything silly.

“What happened in the kitchen?” Paulo asked as Alvaro climbed into bed next to him.

“What?” Alvaro asked. “What happened?”

“You came out happier. Like it was some weird mood-changing machine.”

Alvaro laughed. He pulled the sheets over Paulo and himself. “I just talked to Franco a little bit.”

“Franco?” Paulo asked, incredulous. “ _Franco_ made you happy?”

“Mmhmm.”

“What did he do? Kiss you?”

Alvaro slapped Paulo. Gently, on the cheek. “Don’t be a minx.”

“What did he say?” Paulo asked, shimmying closer to Alvaro. “Tell me. I wanna know.”

“I just, you know, I asked him how he deals with it,” Alvaro said softly, his hands finding Paulo’s under the sheets and clutching them tightly. “Being so far away from Isco all the time. And he said he found little things to look forward to the next time they met. He found all the things that made him happy. And he focused on those. He said that these things should make me happier than being far from you makes me sad.”

“Don’t they?”

“They do. I’ve just never seen it that way.”

Paulo smiled. He slid one hand out of Alvaro’s grasp and used it to gently card through Alvaro’s hair. “So you’re going to be okay?” he whispered.

“I am,” Alvaro said. “I’ll try.”

He always would. That was the greatest beauty of Alvaro – he always, always tried.

“Alvi,” Paulo said softly, his hand landing on Alvaro’s cheek. He gave it a soft squeeze. “I just want you to remember we’ll always be okay. No matter the distance between us.”

Alvaro nodded. His eyes darted around Paulo’s face for a while, the way they did when he was being thoughtful. Then he leaned in and pressed his tender lips on Paulo’s.

“I love you so much, Paulo Bruno Dybala.”

Paulo smiled and felt Alvaro’s lips follow his upwards. “I love you too, Alvaro Borja Morata.”

“I'm so happy to be with you always. Even when we're apart, we're always together.”

“Yeah?” Paulo pulled away, holding Alvaro by the cheeks. “Alvi. Do I make you happy?”

“Of course,” Alvaro whispered, hand on the side of Paulo’s waist. “Yeah.”

“Tell me the little things that you're going to look forward to.”

“Your smile,” Alvaro said, fingers moving to trace Paulo’s lips. “The way you eat, like a hungry puppy. When you look at me and it’s like I'm immediately at home no matter where we’re standing. Your little hands with no boundaries. When you see a dog on the street and it’s like you'd die if you didn't pet him. You trying to help me cook but ending up finishing all the food before everything’s done. Your sleepy face in the morning and how the first thing you do is tell me you love me. Your little face at the airport departures with your smile that lets me know our next time will be very, very soon.”

Then he made Paulo tell him what it was that Paulo looked forward to, and honestly it was a list longer than Paulo could even imagine so he could only try his best.

They spent the rest of the night trading little tidbits about each other that neither of them knew the other took note of, and kissing lazily as they thought of even more to say. At the end of the night the taste of Alvaro’s presence on Paulo’s lips and in his mind was stronger than ever.

“I’ll visit you more often,” Alvaro said sleepily, his eyes closed. “In Turin. I figured out why I don’t go back there to see you so often. It’s ‘cause it makes me sad. I once had a life there, with you, and now I don’t.”

“You don’t have to,” Paulo whispered.

“I want to. It’s a way...a way of trying.”

Paulo smiled. “Okay.”

“I love you so much, Paulo,” Alvaro breathed, not so much a whisper as he was just mouthing the word. Paulo moved closer to hear him. Alvaro’s breaths were warm and welcoming on his cheeks. “More than I can scream. Harder than my heart can beat.”

The summer that had just passed had felt like everything but finished for Paulo. Sure, they were all back with their teams now. But there was just something that made Paulo feel like summer hadn’t yet ended for the two of them.

But that night, as Paulo lay warm and comfortable in his Alvaro’s arms, their hearts cut open and laid bare in whatever little space existed between them, Paulo finally felt like they had reached the last page of summer – they had finally reached the ending Paulo was simultaneously so excited to read yet so afraid of reading. Their fairytale ending to their fairytale summer.

The back cover of the book thudded shut together with Paulo’s heavy eyelids as he drifted asleep with Alvaro in their own quiet, personal little piece of forever.


	12. Epilogue

Franco had to admit that Junior’s third birthday party seemed to be more for the adults than the children.

Well, blame it all on Isco. He’d wanted to set up this whole adult buffet table and everyone was just there while all their kids played. Franco even caught Isco stuffing his face full of that cheesy ravioli that Franco had gotten for Isco’s surprise party those months ago.

“This party is a flop,” Franco whined when he finally found Isco, hiding in the corner and shoveling ravioli in his mouth. Again.

“What?” Isco asked, his mouth full. A dollop of something flew out of it. Franco prayed it didn’t land anywhere on his body. “Why do you say that?”

“It’s supposed to be a kid party,” Franco said.

“The kids are having fun,” Isco said, gesturing to the play area inside the house, then the big bouncy castle in the backyard, where Paulo and Alvaro were, making sure no one hurt themselves. The kids were mostly children of Isco and Sonia’s friends, or from Junior’s new playgroup. “The adults are a bonus.”

“You sure they are?” Franco asked. He searched the room for Junior and eventually found him with Sonia, to the side of the indoor play area.

“It’s an amazing party,” Isco said, licking his lips. It didn’t really remove the cheese and cream that speckled his beard, but he puckered his lips anyway. “Kiss.”

“No. You’re so dirty.”

“I am not,” Isco said, hurt.

“You are. There’s white stuff all over.”

A slow smile crept over Isco’s face. “Sounds dirty.”

Franco slapped him on the shoulder. He ended up obliging for a kiss and afterwards used a napkin to pick the bits out of Isco’s beard.

“Thank you,” Isco said softly, and Franco startled when the portion of beard he was untangling suddenly moved. “For doing this,” he gestured at the party.

Franco smiled. “Yeah.”

“Sonia’s really happy about it. She's not a good planner.”

“Like you?”

“Mmhmm.”

Franco’s smile turned into a fond grin. He leaned on the wall next to Isco as Isco dug back into his bowl of ravioli, more gingerly this time.

Junior was back at the gift table, picking out another gift to open. Sonia let him do so on her lap, beaming at him when he started screaming because it was a tiny little football and he wanted to play with it _immediately._ Despite her multiple attempts to stop him she eventually wasn't able to overcome his pestering and ended up following him out to the backyard.

They ran into Alvaro and Paulo out there; Alvaro joined their kickaround while Paulo tended to a little girl who’d fallen. She wasn't hurt but she was pouting and Paulo was trying his very best to erase that pout. He sent her back into the bouncy castle with a giggle and a big smile on her face.

Inside the house, some children were gathered around the small plastic food table and making a mess out of their faces as they ate. Some of their parents hovered around them; some remained at the adult table.

Isco's teammates were present. Franco tried to avoid eye contact with Marco and Lucas.

Joaquin was also there, reunited with his Matias, even if only briefly. They went outside and clung to Paulo, and Joaquin had to take care of another little girl who’d tripped over Joaquin’s feet, so that was pretty entertaining.

Alvaro rejoined them and Paulo made the introductions. Franco was glad he’d asked Isco to invite all of them.

Junior came bounding back inside, crashing against Franco’s legs and dragging Franco away to ‘meet my friends, Vazquez.’ Franco obliged. He ended up seated in the middle of a group of kids who seemed smitten with him and wouldn’t relent until they each got to introduce themselves and tell him a short story, one by one.

He had the last little girl in his lap, silent after her babbling, when he turned and saw Isco.

He was sitting on the couch, body and head twisted over the back just to look at Franco. His arm was propped on the backrest and his cheek was resting on it and. And he was just looking at Franco like Franco was. Was the biggest jewel on display. Or Franco was something in a shop window he really, really wanted.

Franco gave him a smile. He gave a shy smile right back, nuzzling his head into his arm to hide his blush.

“You guys having fun?” Franco asked his brand new, tiny fan club.

“Yeah!” they all said, unsynchronised.

“Do you want some cake? Let’s go get some cake.”

He stood up and everyone followed him. Franco had no fucking idea what Junior had told his friends but all of them seemed to worship Franco. They stood around the table as Franco cut pieces of cake for them, little pieces because he wasn’t sure who’d already had cake and was going to be bloated. He sent them off one by one to find their parents after they obliged to a kiss on his cheek.

He entertained himself for a while watching the outdoor quartet get a little bit overwhelmed by the sudden influx of children at the bouncy castle.

Then he turned around and saw Isco with Junior sitting on his arm, smiling at him again like he was the thing in the window Isco had finally gotten.

Franco went over to them and Junior was all over him immediately, leaning out of Isco’s grasp and clasping Franco’s face between his hands.

“Vazquez, papa want kiss,” he said.

“Yeah?” Franco laughed. “How do you know that?”

“Papa got the ‘I want kiss’ look.”

Isco gave a little ‘tsk’ like he just really didn’t know how to deal with Junior. Franco gave him a peck on the lips.

“Vazquez, I want pasta,” Junior demanded, tugging on Franco’s collar.

So Franco took him and held Isco’s hand and brought them both to the pasta table.

“I can’t feed you both at the same time, so you’re gonna have to feed yourself,” he told Junior.

“Me?” Junior said sadly. “Papa can feed himself.”

“You’re a big boy now. You’re three.”

“I’m three!”

“You know how to eat by yourself, yeah?”

Junior gave a little huff but took the plastic fork Franco was holding. He ate from the bowl Franco held as Franco took another fork and started feeding Isco with his free hand.

“You okay?” Franco asked. “You’ve been quiet.”

Isco smiled. It was the _gentlest_ smile. “Yeah, I’m good.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“Just how great this party is.”

“You think so?”

“Mmhmm. Maybe you could be an organizer when you retire.”

Franco laughed. “Yeah, and you’ll be my sidekick.”

“Organizers don’t have sidekicks. They have assistants.”

“Sidekick sounds cooler.”

Isco grinned at him. He turned to Junior and softly wiped a drop of cream off his cheek before asking, “Are you having fun, baby?”

“Very fun papa!”

“Do you like your presents?” Franco asked.

Junior nodded and beamed. “Vazquez I am very happy!”

Isco laughed and Franco saw the pure affection in his eyes he held for his son. He knew Junior meant the entire world to Isco, more than anything and anyone else, and Franco just. He would literally do _anything_ for the two of them to be happy.

“Vazquez,” Junior said softly, gently waving his fork in Franco’s face, then Isco’s. “Papa. Thank you for party.”

Franco couldn’t help but laugh adoringly. He was such a good, _pure_ boy. Franco couldn’t imagine ever being angry with him or letting anything bad happen to him. “You’re welcome,” he whispered, ruffling Junior’s hair.

He hung around with Isco, Junior, and Sonia for most of the remaining time. He listened to them make jokes and laugh and he watched Junior occasionally skitter around.

His phone buzzed sometime in the evening before everyone started to leave. It was a notification from Instagram: _alvaromorata tagged you in a post._

It consisted of two photos – the first one of Isco sitting on the couch and looking at Franco with his eyes practically hearts, and the second photo also of Isco, but now with a frown on his face and casually flipping the camera off from across the room. It was captioned, _When you see your boyfriend vs when you see your best friend._

He heard Isco give a ‘tsk’ as he also saw the post, and then violently tap at his phone until he got his comment posted. _When your best friend is an asshole._

And even though Franco had become less and less tolerant of parties over the years, he found himself thoroughly enjoying this party. He was surrounded by some of his favourite people in the world, there was food, and there were more than twenty kids having the time of their lives. Franco didn’t think there was anything better than this.

\------

Most of the kids and their parents trickled home before dinnertime. The last people remaining at the party when the sun went down were Marco and Lucas.

Alvaro was watching the bouncy castle guys deflate and collect the castle. Paulo was sitting on one of the lawn chairs watching Alvaro watch the guys. He turned when Marco and Lucas slid the back door open, obviously not having expected them to still be around.

Paulo was surprised when Marco sat down opposite him and Lucas stopped behind. He turned to Alvaro with his eyebrows shooting up to the sky and Alvaro couldn’t help but laugh as he scurried over. He hovered behind Paulo as Marco and Lucas tried to start a conversation.

“Hi,” Marco said, excited like he always was.

“Hi,” Paulo said hesitantly. “How’s everything?”

“Good,” Marco grinned. “You?”

“Good, too,” Paulo smiled.

“Alvaro talks about you a lot,” Lucas chimed in.

“He does?” Paulo looked over his shoulder at Alvaro, and he had this. This shimmer of joy in his eyes. “Yeah?”

“Mmhmm.”

“What does he say?” Paulo asked.

Lucas laughed, and then sat down next to Marco like he thought this was going to take some time. They started telling Paulo everything Alvaro had ever said about him, stopping to ask him to elaborate or for Paulo to explain himself. They all looked at ease and overjoyed to meet Paulo, and not like they were being forced to. Which they were not, because Alvaro hadn’t even asked them to speak to Paulo. Somehow it just made Alvaro feel so warm that they were automatically willing to hang out with Paulo. Because honestly, Alvaro pitied everyone who didn’t get a chance to get to know Paulo.

Alvaro just sat next to Paulo, half behind him because he was straddling the bench, his cheek resting on Paulo’s back and his arms wrapped around Paulo’s waist, feeling Paulo’s voice as deep vibrations against his face. He was just so happy – so happy to see more and more of his friends finding that they got along with Paulo, and vice versa. So happy that Paulo finally knew what Alvaro’s friends thought about him. It didn’t matter to Alvaro, and it shouldn’t have mattered to Paulo or anyone else – but Alvaro knew it _did_ and so he would rather die than continue letting Paulo wonder what people thought about him.

Alvaro ended up being teased but he wasn’t bothered by it because he was just _that_ smitten with Paulo. The way Paulo’s body shook with his laughter was. It was mesmerising.

They all decided to go inside and bother Franco. Alvaro followed them and found himself amused by the way Franco cowered into Isco’s side when the three of them approached together.

Alvaro brought Marco and Lucas to the door when they were done frightening Franco. Paulo was jabbering away to Franco and Isco but joined Alvaro just in time to wave as they got into Lucas’ car.

“Do you think they like me?” Paulo asked as he watched them drive down the street.

“Of course they do,” Alvaro said. He turned to Paulo and pressed Paulo’s hair back on his head.

“You think so?”

“Yeah.”

Paulo smiled and turned back inside. He wandered around the living room, instinctively collecting the rubbish strewn on the ground and placing them in a rubbish bag. Alvaro followed him like a pest.

“Are you happy you got to meet them?” Alvaro asked after this horribly lengthy silence.

“Yeah,” Paulo smiled.

“It’s just,” Alvaro shrugged. “Remember ‘bout two months ago, you said you’d never met them and you didn’t know if they liked you?”

“You remembered?”

“‘Course I did.”

Paulo put the rubbish bag on the ground and turned to face Alvaro. He gently wrapped his arms around Alvaro’s neck. “So you let them make fun of you just for me?”

Alvaro smiled. “I just want you to be happy, Pau,” he whispered. “And I want you to see that people don’t hate you. My friends, they all love you. I wish you could see how amazing, how beautiful you are. I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. I know that never having met my teammates has made you uneasy. I hope today’s made that a little better.”

Paulo tiptoed a little and pressed his lips on Alvaro’s. “I love you, Alvi.”

“I love you, too.”

“You make me feel very beautiful.”

And Alvaro was. Alvaro was just so _thrilled_ to hear that. Nothing – _nothing_ in the world meant more to him than being able to make Paulo feel like he was the most beautiful person in the universe. Because he _was_. And Alvaro would gladly, _gladly_ spend the rest of his life trying to make him feel that way.

\------

Paulo and Alvaro finally hauled their asses out of Isco’s house just past six in the evening.

“Do you think we should’ve offered for them to stay?” Franco asked as he followed Isco to Junior’s play area, where he was sitting surrounded by all his new toys.

Isco laughed. Franco was a big, kind baby. “No, they can deal with themselves. They’ll probably go stay over at Alvaro’s place.”

“Okay,” Franco said. The doorbell rang again and he swivelled around.

“Probably the two fools forgetting something,” Isco remarked.

“No, uh,” Franco said timidly, his eyes darting everywhere except at Isco. “They’re guests.”

“Guests?” Isco asked. “Who?”

“Don’t be mad,” Franco said, but before Isco could even respond he grabbed his hand and dragged him to the door.

It was Franco’s _entire family._

“Sorry, our flight got delayed,” was the first thing Nicolas said.

Isco blinked at him, suddenly not being able to find any suitable words. He turned to Franco, who shrugged and then flashed this boyish grin. “I invited them.”

“We were planning a trip to Italy, anyway,” Federico said helpfully.

Isco brought them all inside, and Isco’s parents, Antonio, and Sonia popped out of the room to see what all the ruckus was about which made Isco realise.

“Our parents haven’t met,” he whispered frantically to Franco.

Franco’s lips curled up slightly. “I thought – I thought maybe they should. Meet. You know?”

He looked like he suddenly thought Isco would be mad. But Isco. Isco wasn’t. It was obvious Franco had put a lot of thought into this and they’d been together for almost a year so it was time their parents got to know each other. Especially if Junior was going to be calling Franco his dad.

Isco nodded. “Yeah. Okay, yeah.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask you first.”

Isco shook his head. “No. No, don’t say sorry.”

Franco tightly grasped Isco’s hand. His hand was clammy, like it always was when he was anxious. “I’m nervous,” he whispered.

Isco shook his head again. He planted a kiss on Franco’s cheek. “They’ll be fine.”

Isco took over all the introductions since Franco seemed to tense up like he realised this was a bad idea. Everyone sat down at the couch area but there weren’t enough seats so Franco went to bring some chairs from the dining table so his brothers could sit. And then right after all that Junior came creeping over and stopped between Isco and Franco, hugging Isco’s calf as his curious eyes darted around the families.

Isco realised it was the first time Franco’s parents were meeting Junior, too.

“Um,” he said, because everyone was suddenly staring at him. He picked Junior up and waved so Junior would follow suit. “This is, um. My son,” he said to Franco’s parents. “Isco Junior.”

Big smiles broke out on their faces. Franco’s dad picked Fausto up. “He’s met Fausto, right?” he asked, before putting Fausto on the ground and giving him a little nudge. “Go over and say hi.”

Fausto dashed over and Isco squatted to meet him. He was so _tall_ now. “Say hi,” Isco told Junior.

Junior gave a shy wave, also being typically nervous when there were strangers around. He was more alike to Franco than either of them realised. “Hello,” he said.

Fausto grinned at him, then at Isco. “Hi!” he said happily.

Isco asked, “You remember me?”

Fausto nodded so quickly his head almost rolled off. “Isco!” he said, with his _adorable_ baby lisp again. God, Isco just wanted to squish his little face.

Isco laughed. “And him?” he gestured to Junior.

Fausto nodded again, more slowly this time. Something was passed down the line of Vazquezes until it got to Franco and then Fausto, who tried to hand it to Junior. It was a nicely wrapped small box. “Happy birthday,” Fausto said.

Junior took it with a big grin. He struggled out of Isco’s grasp and planted his feet on the ground, and then grabbed Fausto’s hand and ran away with him so they could play with Junior’s new toys.

Franco and Isco’s parents seemed to have already struck up a conversation, so Isco nudged Franco, who was watching the children adoringly.

“They’re like, cousins,” he said softly.

Franco didn’t have. He didn’t have like, a big response to that. He just blinked a few times at Isco and gave him this frightened-looking smile. Then he returned to watching the children play, and then at their families talking. It seemed harmless. They just exchanged formalities and then started talking about what they usually did with their time. Franco watched them warily.

“There’s no dinner,” Isco whispered, jolting Franco back into reality. “I’ll go make dinner.”

Franco shook his head. “I’ll go,” he said, then smooched Isco on the lips and softly excused himself to the kitchen. Isco could see him flitting about collecting all the food he needed, and then settle by the stove as he started to chop and cook.

Isco listened to their families chat for a while. It was pretty boring but everybody seemed to be very eager and interested, so it was a relief. Even Antonio was being nice; he was with Sonia, who’d scooted over to talk to Franco’s brothers.

Isco wandered over to Junior and Fausto, who were putting together one of Junior’s new presents, a train track. He watched them for a while but they ignored him when he tried to talk to them, which made him laugh. He turned and saw Nicolas watching them; he gave a big smile when he met Isco’s eye.

The kitchen started to smell pretty good, so Isco made his way over there. He found Franco over the stove, drizzling his paella with some oil. He covered the pan and leaned back on the kitchen island.

Isco went next to him and wrapped his arms around Franco’s waist. He felt Franco’s chuckle as a deep rattling of his bones as Franco tucked him under his arm.

“Did I say something wrong?” Isco asked.

“No, why?”

“I don't know. You seem kinda quiet.”

“I'm just a little...nervous. Are _you_ mad at me?”

“I’m not.”

“I mean, for springing this on you.”

Isco smiled. “I'm not. Promise.”

“I had so much fun today.”

“Yeah?” Isco asked. “Thanks for flying your family all the way from Argentina for Junior’s birthday.”

Franco shook his head. He looked. He looked a mixture of proud and relieved. “You know, I think Junior and Fausto really like each other.”

Isco burst into laughter because he'd suddenly remembered their first meeting, where they were still barely walking and even then they had enjoyed their time together. “Yeah. Yeah, they do.”

“Another Vazquez-Alarcon pair that's gonna rule the world.”

“Another?”

“Yeah. We're gonna rule it first.”

Isco laughed again because Franco was just so _adorable_ when he was happy and being silly. He watched as the paella bubbled a little before Franco scooped it into a whole stack of plates in the crevices of Isco’s cabinets that he hadn’t even known about.

They ate dinner gathered around the coffee table because there wasn’t enough space around the dining table. Junior ended up on Franco’s dad’s lap, happily being fed and occasionally giving happy little squawks in response to his questions. Fausto was being fed by his mom. And Franco. Franco was just sitting there watching everybody with a tiny smile on his face.

Isco nudged him in the side. “What was in that present Fausto gave him?” he asked.

“A small Lego set,” Franco said distractedly.

Isco laughed because he suddenly felt silly for even asking. “Franco,” he whispered.

“Yeah?”

“I love you so much.”

Franco gave this. This shy chuckle that Isco suddenly realised how much he loved. “I love you too, Alarcon.”

Isco leaned back in his chair, having already finished his plate of paella even though Franco was barely halfway through his own. He obliged when Franco tried to feed him some. Mostly he just. Just watched, and listened, and took everything in.

Fausto and Junior ended up coming over to pester Franco, who was honestly the _only one_ in the room who would ever give in to them, so it was actually pretty smart of them. They dragged him all the way over to Junior’s play corner again and made him sit and watch Junior introduce all his opened presents one by one.

Franco’s parents were alternating between casual chat with Isco’s parents, glancing over at Franco and the kids, and beaming at Isco. And Isco was just. He was just so _relieved_. Not just that his parents seemed to get along with Franco’s, but. But that Franco’s parents seemed to accept him.

Well, he’d long known that they did. It was just that. Now he knew that Franco’s parents accepted him _and_ his family _and his son_. Isco hadn’t realised it but it had been something that was weighing on him, somewhere in the back of his mind, whether Franco’s parents were truly accepting of Junior.

Isco collected the empty dishes and brought them to the kitchen. He didn’t notice Franco’s mom following him until he’d placed them in the sink and turned around to see her getting some glasses for everybody.

“Sorry we didn’t bring any drinks, or anything,” she told Isco.

“It’s okay,” Isco smiled. “Thank you. For coming. I mean, I know like, Junior...like, he’s a whole taboo and –”

“He’s not,” Franco’s mom said kindly. “Really, he’s not. Franco’s told us all about him, and about his mom Sonia, and the relationship you all have, and. Honestly, it’s just so nice to see you all so happy together. And your son is a really smart kid.”

“Thanks,” Isco grinned.

“Fausto likes him.”

“He looks like he does.”

“Maybe they should visit more often. Or you could let Junior talk to him on the phone more. If you want.”

“Yeah, of course.”

“I mean, they’re like...kinda like cousins, you know?”

Isco laughed because yes, he had obviously just thought of that earlier that day, but it was just such an _adorable thought_. Junior having a cousin. A little elder baby boy to play with. It was the most heartwarming little thing.

“You have to be careful, though,” she continued as Isco helped her bring the glasses and the bottle of orange juice outside. “Franco’s going to spoil the _hell_ out of them.”

“He is,” Isco said fondly. “He’s already spoiled the hell out of Junior.”

“I think that’s why all kids love him,” she said, referring to the entire kid fan club that Franco had earlier, that Isco’s parents had told everyone all about.

“Yeah,” Isco said softly. “So you...you and everyone. You’re okay? With...with me. And my...family.”

Franco’s mom smiled the warmest smile and Isco realised where Franco got all his tenderness from. “Of course. A hundred percent.”

“Thank you,” Isco said, but she made a little huff like she didn’t want him to keep thanking her. They got back outside and poured the juice for everyone and Isco just settled again, sitting in between Sonia and a returning Franco. He didn’t even feel weird or annoyed when their parents started sharing embarrassing stories about them. He was just. He felt calmer than he had ever felt.

It was almost ten o’clock when there was a sudden tugging at the back hem of Isco’s shirt.

Isco turned around in his chair to see Fausto peering up at him with his eager eyes. He paused for a moment as his gaze wandered to the circle of adults, and Isco knew that he’d only gone to the back because he was afraid of interrupting everyone, and _God_. Was this how _all the Vazquezes_ were like? Isco just. Isco couldn’t deal with them.

Anyway, Fausto jabbed a finger at Junior’s play area, where – well, where Junior was curled up, asleep. He turned back to Isco and tugged at Isco’s shirt again. “He sleeps.”

Isco laughed. He got out of the chair and picked Fausto up. “I’ll go get him.”

Franco stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll go,” he said softly, shyly, suddenly aware that everyone was watching them.

Isco followed him anyway, with Fausto sitting on his arm. He brought Fausto to Junior’s room, where Franco wiped Junior down with a warm towel and put him in his pyjamas. He asked Fausto simple questions like when his birthday was, where he was attending preschool, what was his favourite ice cream flavour, so Fausto wouldn’t be afraid. He needn’t even have worried, because Fausto was so friendly and he just grabbed Isco’s collar like Junior had the habit of doing and answered Isco’s questions softly and politely.

“You wanna stay over with us?” Isco asked, gently wiping a tiny bead of sweat from Fausto’s cheek. “Yeah? Like a sleepover with your cool uncles?”

Franco laughed from where he was, tucking Junior into bed. “We’ll have to ask Nico.”

Thankfully, Fausto’s parents were totally up for it. Isco thought perhaps it was because Fausto wrapped his arms around Isco’s head and refused to let go.

Isco called Ubers for all of them and told Franco’s family they could get a room at the hotel Isco’s family was staying at. They all agreed happily and Isco was sure that there was probably going to be zero sleep that night.

Isco gave Fausto a bubble bath as Franco watched. Fausto seemed particularly energetic; he’d probably slept on the plane. As much as he was a Vazquez, Isco bet none of Franco’s family could actually keep up with Franco’s obsessiveness.

There was no spare child’s bed for Fausto, so they put him between them on Isco’s bed. They got one of Junior’s bedtime stories that was just a little too difficult for Junior and Franco started reading but Fausto wanted Isco to read to him, for some reason, so he ended up on Isco’s lap practically clawing Isco’s face off. He was such a _mild_ kid but also. Also he was so _feisty._

He refused to go to sleep even after going through three books, so Isco cradled him and asked him a whole lot of questions about his favourite things. He asked about Fausto’s favourite animals. His favourite colour. His favourite cartoon. He asked Fausto if Franco taught him about space.

For a four-year-old, Fausto sure knew a whole lot about space.

Franco sat there beaming so _proudly_ his cheeks were almost falling off his face. He was. He was such a horrible, nerdy uncle.

Fausto finally fell asleep near midnight. Franco lay down for a while before getting up and fetching Junior from his bed. He put him in between himself and Fausto and just. Just curled up protectively around them, smiling at Isco.

Franco wrapped his arms around the children; it reached all the way to Isco, whose elbow his gentle fingers grazed. His smile grew when Isco met his eye. He looked. He looked so _happy_. He gave Isco’s elbow a squeeze before his hand moved to cup Isco’s face. It rested there way too briefly before it wandered to Fausto’s cheek and then Junior’s, giving them each a soft squeeze.

And Franco. Franco didn’t say a _word_. But Isco knew what he was thinking. Just the look in Franco’s eyes gave everything away. That dreamy look that he was giving all three of them, like he wished they were in an eternal moment.

This was all Franco wanted. It was all Franco had ever wanted in his life – his own family.

Isco wiggled closer towards the center of the bed, snuggling up against Fausto, who in turn snuggled up to Junior. He took Franco’s hand and intertwined their fingers.

“Exactly like this?” he whispered, eyes moving to land briefly on the two sleeping children between them, referring to Franco’s silent thoughts. Thoughts about them and – and their future children.

Franco smiled a smile that was softer than all the feathers in the world. He nodded, his fingers tightening around Isco’s.

“Exactly like this,” he whispered.

Isco fell asleep allowing himself to dream of the future for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sooo...this is it!
> 
> Thank you all for sticking with me throughout this rather shitty part 3. I hope it won't deter you from continuing on to part 4 because I sure do have a lot to write about! This was only meant to be a filler story without so much of a plot but I hope that you like what you've read and that you look forward to part 4 as much as I do.
> 
> I've posted something short about part 4 already [here ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14581293/chapters/33695856)(alternatively, you can ignore me being extra and just go on and click the 'next part in series' thing). As usual, I look forward to all your comments and suggestions on AO3 or tumblr (mandzilkos). Thank you all so so much, I love you all and I would be nothing without you. Thank you and have an amazing May!


End file.
